#missing two worlds and afraid she will miss more

[popcornpoppypop]

At The End Of The Day

Summary: Kit and Robby deal with having a newborn in the house. Robby notices changes with Kit. He'll keep her from drowning, no matter what.

Warnings: Postpartum depression, intrusive thoughts, bad moms, talks of birth

A/N: I have never had a baby nor postpartum. I did a lot of research for this one. I feel like there are a lot of fics that just end with the happy family and wanted to sprinkle a little reality in there. This is The Pitt after all.

The moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the bed and its inhabitants. The Robinavitch house was quiet; everyone was sleeping soundly. Michael and Kit were tangled in each other’s arms, Hawkeye snoring at their feet.

A cry crackles through the baby monitor on the nightstand.

The two stirred, Michael sitting up out of instinct and practically still unconscious. Kit groaned as she rolled over, pushing herself up.

“I got her.” Robby murmured.

“She needs to be fed.” Kit groaned.

“We have bottles in the fridge. Sleep.” He cleared his throat.

“And let my tits leak all over myself for no goddamn reason? Brilliant.” Kit snapped as she padded out of the room. Robby felt like he had whiplash, unsure what had just happened.

She’s tired, he thought. They both were. It had been only a week since they had brought Abby home. For the most part, they had adjusted. It was, however, evident that Kit was starting to feel the toll of their new responsibilities more than he was.

He got up and went to the nursery. He stood silent in the doorway, watching Kit. She sat in the rocking chair, the baby held to her breast. The shadows hid her face, the silhouette was still enough to take Robby’s breath away. He never would get used to the sight, something so intimate and beautiful about it. He had to choke back tears every time he saw her feed their baby.

The sound of sniffling made him tip his head in confusion.

He cleared his throat, a small warning that there was another person near, as he walked toward her.

Kit was in her own world, the baby suckling and her head bowed. She didn’t care that Robby was there.

He knelt in front of her, her face clearer, as were the tears falling down her cheeks. It took him by surprise.

“Kit?” His voice soft, afraid of startling her.

“Don’t.” She whispered. “I can’t do this right now.” Her voice was small and fragile.

“Alright. I’ll sit here then, that okay?” Robby put his hands on her knees. She nodded. They sat together in the moonlight as the baby finished feeding. Kit put Abby back in her crib, the baby settling back down.

Robby came up behind her, running his hands up and down her arms. The feeling had always calmed Kit, it was a small gesture that had saved her time and time again. Not this time. In this moment, it was closer to a cheese grater against her skin.

“Stop.” She bit and stomped off, back to the bedroom.

Robby stood staring at the doorway that Kit had just left through, a strange, dejected feeling washing over him.

The sun was streaming through the window, it beat against Kit’s eyelids. She groaned as she sat up. She looked over to see that Robby had woken up already.

The smell of coffee and food felt like a warm hug as she walked into the kitchen. Robby stood over the stove, the baby in her rocker on the floor near him. He looked up at the sound of Kit entering.

“Decaf is ready when you want it.” He smiled

“Great.” Kit forced a smile, he could tell.

“Do you want some eggs? I know they are hit or miss for you.” He observed her as she made her coffee. It was clinical more than romantic.

“That’s fine.” She shrugged.

“I can make something else, if you want.”

“That’s dumb, you’re already doing eggs, just make the damn eggs.” She sighed as she walked over to the table and set her mug down.

“O-kay.” Robby felt himself getting frustrated and did his best to stamp it out.

“When did she eat last?” Kit sipped her coffee.

“About an hour ago. She’s okay.” He smiled down at the baby as she gurgled in her rocker.

“Did you change her?”

“Yes. Honey, I’ve got her taken care of. Don’t worry about her right now.” He put the plate of eggs in front of her.

“Don’t be so patronizing. I’m just checking on my daughter.” Kit snapped.

“That’s not fair.” Robby looked down at her, his annoyance evident.

“Whatever.” She sighed. The baby started crying in her rocker. Kit moved to get up but Robby gestured for her to sit down. He gathered the baby up in his arms and cooed for her to settle.

“We’re going to go and play in the living room so you can have your breakfast.” Robby sighed as he walked off.

The day went on and Kit couldn’t shake the cloud over her head. Robby did his best to keep everything light.

Kit was sitting on the couch, watching some nonsense on the TV, Abby was lying on Robby’s chest. She watched as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. A thought flashed across her mind. It was terrifying and came out of nowhere.

He’s going to take her from you and you won’t care.

Kit shook her head, the tears burning her eyes.

He’s going to take her and you won’t see her again and you’ll be relieved.

She felt her chest tighten.

He’s going to take her because he knows what a bad mother you are, what a bad person you are.

She sat up straight in her seat, her hands rubbing up and down her thighs and breath picking up.

You’ll be so relieved when they aren’t here and you’ll get the confirmation that you’re no better than your mother.

Kit jumped up and rushed over to them.

“Give her to me.” She said, her voice panicked and shaky. She pried the baby off his chest.

“Kit, what the hell?” Robby looked up at her furious and confused.

“She’s my baby too. I’m allowed to hold her.” She snapped as she rushed out of the room. It was the first time Robby didn’t recognize his wife.

The tensions only grew worse over the next few weeks. Robby did his best to be understanding. He tried to give her space and let her work through whatever was going on.

“Can you just clean up after yourself, honestly!” Kit snapped as she tossed Robby’s coffee mug into the dishwasher that he had left in the sink.

“Kit, I put it down for a second. I was going back for it.” His shoulders were tensed.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Kit scoffed.

“I’m tired of this. Can you tell me what I can do right?” Robby snapped.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“You don’t stop yelling at me and I have no idea what is happening!” Robby through his hands in the air.

“Just leave me alone, right now.” Kit hissed.

“Right. I’ll just go spend every waking moment with our baby that can’t hold a conversation yet. Fine.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it. But he did it anyway.

“If you don’t want to spend time with your daughter, why did you knock me up then!?” Kit barked.

“I’m not doing this.” Robby turned and stomped off.

Robby was at his wits end. He was trying so hard to help her. Any time he broached the subject, Kit brushed him off or bit his head off.

Kit could feel herself slipping away. She felt herself turning into something different. It was dark and heavy and she couldn’t figure out how to fight it. She knew that this wasn’t rare, but she didn’t think it would happen to her.

The late nights and early mornings were getting to her. She just needed some sleep, she told herself.

She stood rocking the baby in the living room, standing by the window to get some sunlight. Abby was cooing and wriggling in her arms. Kit watched her face scrunch up and test it’s flexibility. She should be enthralled, Kit thought. But she was indifferent.

Robby walked into the room, watching her stare down at Abby. The look on her face was disconcerting. He walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“She’s getting so animated with her face.” He hummed.

“She’s supposed to by now.” Kit’s voice was monotone.

“It’s fun to watch it happen, though.” Robby rubbed her shoulder.

“I need a shower.” Kit passed the baby off to him.  

“Kit?” Robby called after her.

“What?” She snapped.

“I know it’s hard. But you’re doing really well.” Robby smiled. Kit watched him for a long, silent moment. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She shook her head and left.

The baby monitor crackled with soft sounds that lulled Robby awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked over to find himself alone in the bed. He was going to roll over and sleep when he heard the sounds again. It was soft, but the sobs of his wife had him up and out of the bedroom quick.

He walked into the nursery to find Kit in her rocking chair, the baby nursing in her arms. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?” Robby fumbled his way over to her. “Is it painful? I can get that massage thing.” He moved to get up but Kit grabbed his wrist.

“I can’t do this, Michael.” She sobbed.

“What are you talking about?” Robby knelt down in front of her.

“I can’t…it’s too much. I might…I might hate her. I don’t want to hate her.” Kit sobbed. Robby’s heart stopped in his chest. The pain she’d been keeping to herself to spare them was breaking her.

“Honey. When…when did this start?” He brushed a stray hair from her face.

“I don’t know. I just keep having these thoughts, horrible thoughts. I hate who I am. It’s miserable.” Kit sobbed. The baby finished feeding and Robby took her and settled her in her crib.

“It’s okay. This happens. Everyone has scary thoughts, it doesn’t mean you hate her.” Robby put his hands on her knees.

“I-I’m turning into my mother.” Kit cried. Robby wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her head.

“You are not your mother. You’re not. We’re going to get through this. You just need some help. We’ll figure this out.” He promised and Kit sobbed, her hands clawing at his shirt, desperate for escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” her voice was raw. She wasn’t sure who she was apologizing to at this point. Maybe Robby, maybe the baby or perhaps herself.

“Shhh. You’re okay. You don’t need to apologize.” Robby held her tight to his chest. “Let’s go to bed. You need some sleep.” He pulled her to her feet, guiding her back to their bed. Her emotions taking their toll caused her to pass out the second her head hit the pillow.

Robby sat up all night looking up the best ways to help and the best therapists in Pittsburgh. He sent emails, pulling on every favor owed to him to get her in somewhere.

Dr. Robinavitch,

I’m sorry to hear of your wife’s struggles. This is very common and, unfortunately, rarely discussed. I want to ease some potential grief that you’re feeling and let you know that it’s hard to differentiate the signs of postpartum from exhaustion; you didn’t miss anything.

I would be more than willing to see Katherine this week. I understand the urgency this case has for you. I have personally dealt with postpartum myself and can understand how quickly it can escalate. If she is willing to come on Thursday, I have an opening at 1pm. I will tentatively schedule it for her.

Please let her know that this isn’t a failure or defect in her. That’s the most important thing you can do for her.

Sincerely,

Dr. Joanna Groff.

The morning light was harsh, unwelcome this morning. It felt nagging. Kit rolled over to find the bed empty. She groaned as she got up, her tits hurt, her head hurt, her body ached. She thought she would start to feel better once Abby was born, but she felt worse than ever.

She walked to the nursery, pulling her robe close to her to fight the cool air. She stood in the doorway, watching Robby hold their daughter. His big arms enveloped her tiny body. She looked so small in his embrace.

“Mama is so good to you. We just need to help her a little. We’re going to take care of her just like she takes care of us.” He hummed to the baby, bringing her close and kissing her soft hair.

Kit’s chest tightened and twisted. She felt so much from those words. She wanted to revel in the beauty of them. She wanted to be comforted by his care. But she couldn’t fight the feeling of failure. She couldn’t stop her mind from spiraling and her mother’s words ringing in her head.

“You think you can do better? Please! You’re no better than me, you’re just like me.”

She couldn’t stifle the sob. It echoed into the nursery. Robby whipped around, surprised to see her and the tears streaming down her face. He put the baby down and gathered her up in his arms.

“You’re okay.” He murmured into her hair.

“I’m just like her.” She whispered.

“Nope, not even a little. Come here,” Robby pulled her to the living room and sat her on the couch. He knelt in front of her, holding her face in his hands.

“She told me that I was no better than her, the day Abby was born. I fought her, but maybe she was right.” Kit shook her head.

“No, she’s never been right about you. Kitty, you are so much more than your mother could ever be.” Robby brushed the tears from her cheeks.

“I know you think you’re failing right now, but you’re not. Your mother would never be this upset; she wouldn’t care the way you do. You care so much, it’s too much for you right now. That’s okay. I’m not letting you drown.” He told her, holding her shaking hands in his.

“What if I can’t get out of this?” She couldn’t look at him.

“I’m not letting that happen. I pulled some favors, I got you in with Dr. Groff. She’s the best in the state. She’s gone through this too, she’s going to help us. I’m getting you whatever you need, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” She shook her head; her body couldn’t stop shaking.

“I love you so much.” He wrapped her up in his arms, Kit clung on to him for dear life.

Kit hadn’t realized it until she was in the parking lot of Dr. Groff’s office, but that was the first time she had left the house for herself since Abby was born. The world felt foreign, scarier. Her hands shook as she opened the car door and made her way inside.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The receptionist’s bright smile didn’t help Kit’s nerves.

“I have an appointment at 1 pm with Dr. Groff. Should be under Robinavitch.” She cleared her throat.

“Of Course. She’s finishing up with her last appointment. I’ll let you know when she’s ready.” Kit nodded and sat in the plastic cushioned chair. The waiting room was sterile. The pictures on the wall were stock photos of plants. The magazines on the side table taunted her with headlines like; How to relearn self-love, 6 ways to a happier mindset, You steer the ship: how to take control of your decisions.

“Mrs. Robinavitch, she’s ready.” The Receptionist smiled. She got up and walked into the office. She was shocked to see how different Dr. Groff’s office was from the waiting room. There was a colorful rug on the floor, the furniture was soft and pillowy, and the walls were covered in beautiful art. There was a warmth to it.

“Mrs. Robinavtich, have a seat.” The woman was in her mid-fifties, her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. Her clothes were loose and airy. Her top was an earthy green and her pants a deep maroon. Her glasses sat on the tip of her nose, just above a kind smile.

“It’s Dr. Robinavitch, actually.” Kit cleared her throat as she sat on the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were both doctors. I’ll make a note of that in your file.” She nodded as she scribbled something on her notebook.

“It gets confusing. Katherine is fine.” Her body was tense, and she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I bet. What is your specialty?”

“EM, like Michael. Same department at PTMC. I just go by Dr. R and he’s Dr. Robby. Still causes some confusion with the med students.”

“Well, it’s not hard to confuse them.” Groff chuckled.

“True.”

“Shall we get down to it?” Groff gave a soft smile, trying to encourage Kit.

“I guess. I’m not sure where to start?” Kit gave a nervous laugh.

“Wherever feels most comfortable for now.”

“Right.” Kit bit at her nails. “I guess, I started having these…thoughts about a week after Abby was born.”

“Abby is your daughter?”

“Yes. Abigail.”

“That’s a nice name. After anyone?”

“Michael’s grandmother. She raised him, it meant a lot to him.”

“What a wonderful memorial. How old is Abby?”

“She’s five weeks.”

“How long is your maternity leave?”

“Eleven weeks. Michael’s paternity leave is only eight.”

“So, he’ll be going back soon. That’s scary.”

“I guess. It’ll be different.”

“Do you want to tell me about your thoughts?”

“Want to? No. But I have to, I think.”

“Why do you have to?”

“Because they’re eating me alive and I feel like Michael just can’t understand. He tries, believe me. He’s a man at the end of the day.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well…he didn’t go through all of it, physically. I had carried her, I was so sick. The worst morning sickness, almost had to be hospitalized. But I never cared. I loved her so much from the moment I found out I was pregnant. Then I went through labor and birth, it was so hard.”

“Was it a traumatic birth?”

“No. Not any more than usual.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“All birth is trauma. It’s your insides being ripped apart. It’s your body changing violently against your will. It’s your child being ripped from you. It’s pain and fear and violence and too many emotions.”

“Some women find it to be beautiful. You don’t feel that way?”

“No. I don’t. There were moments during labor, at least. Michael holding me and keeping me safe. It was nice when we talked about the future. But once it reached a point when it was relentless, it wasn’t beautiful.”

“What about when you saw her for the first time?”

“I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Well, she didn’t cry at first. The doctor and nurses had to help her and she wasn’t on my chest like all the other mothers talked about. I thought something was wrong. I couldn’t move to help; I was in so much pain. But I was too scared to move.”

“That would be terrifying. But she was okay.”

“Yeah, it only lasted 20 seconds. They put her in my arms, and she was so beautiful. I loved her so much. But…” Kit couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I’ve never even told Michael this.” Her hands were shaking again.

“I’m not Michael. Everything you say to me stays with me.”

“I know. It’s a lot to say out loud.”

“I think you need to say it out loud.”

“When they put her in my arms, after a minute, I wasn’t interested in her at all. I wanted to push her off of me.” Kit couldn’t stop the sobs. Groff handed her a box of tissues.

“Katherine. It’s normal. Everything you’re feeling is normal.”

“I faked it. Every time someone came in the room, I plastered a smile on my face and pretended like I was beside myself with joy. But I was drowning and couldn’t find the words.”

“We’re going to find the words here, together.”

“I love her. I know I do. But I might hate her too.”

“Why do you think you hate her?”

“She cries and my body just gets so tense it hurts. I hold her and look at her, and half my brain thinks she is so beautiful, and the other half is annoyed at her presence. Sometimes, it’s just disinterest.”

“Katherine, what you’re feeling is just normal emotions. Do you have violent thoughts?”

“No. But…Michael was holding her once, and I thought how much better he was at this than me. How he was going to realize I’m a bad mother and leave, and I’d be relieved.”

“I see.”

“I’m crazy.”

“No one is crazy. You are exceptionally normal, I’m afraid.”

“I get it from my mother.”

“Tell me about your mother?”

“She hates me. She’s told me. She had kids because she thought she had to, not because she wanted to. Every time we talk, she tells me how disappointed in me she is. She doesn’t like my life.”

“How did your mother react when you told her you were pregnant?”

“She laughed at me, told me that I wasn’t mother material.”

“That must have hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.”

“What do you do when your mother says these things to you?”

“I tell Michael. He counters her, talks me off the figurative ledge. Most of the time, her words just annoy me. I don’t hold much importance to them.”

“Okay. I want you to try something for me this week. When you have these thoughts that upset you, that feel bad, I want you to tell them to Michael like it’s your mother saying them. Take those thoughts and put them into your mother’s voice. Take the importance away from them, like you do with your mother. Do you think we can try that?”

“I can try.”

“You took a big step today, Katherine. It was a lot, you’re going to be tired. It’s okay. You need rest. Let yourself rest. Be kind to yourself as we figure this out. Healing is not linear; there will be good days and bad days. I want us to meet once a week for now. I’m going to keep this time for you.”

“Okay. Thank you. Thank you.” Kit wiped the tears from her face.

“I’m here if you need me. I’ll see you next week.” Groff smiled.

Kit sat in the driveway for a while. She lost track of time. Her mind felt lighter than it had in weeks, months, even. She took a deep breath before she moved to go into the house.

Michael was cooking, humming to the soft music playing, Abby strapped to his chest. He hadn’t heard her come in yet. She stood in the doorway, letting the sight sink in.

“You look good like that.” She smiled. Michael jumped, looking at her and softening as he saw how relaxed she looked, how she looked more like herself.

“Back at you.” He hummed. Kit walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and the baby.

“Thank you.” She kissed his shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s needed.” He said as he stirred the pasta sauce.

“I know. But some men would have just let me drown. You didn’t. You took care of me, even when I didn’t make it easy.” She buried her face in his back.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Kitty. You are the love of my life. You’re my wife. You and Abby are all that matter.” He turned around and held her face in his hands.

“You’re all that matters.”  She pulled him down into a deep kiss. Abby started fussing between them.

“Valid, we were squishing you. Sorry, Babygirl.” He laughed and kissed her little head.

“After dinner, I need to tell you some things about therapy.”

“Big things?”

“Heavy, yeah.”

“Alright. Food, then feelings.” He kissed her cheek.

[theincorrigiblemagpie]

Rilla of Ingleside - Chapters 19, 20, 21

Oh, this is going to be LONG—I am so dreadfully behind!

There's nothing I can say about the Verdun offensive and the Ingleside reaction to it that hasn't been said already. Instead, I will tell you all about a scary dream *I* had last week. I dreamt I was in one of my childhood homes (the one we lived in when I was about 8). And a storm was coming and I was rushing to close the windows and balcony doors. Not to keep the storm out (ok a little bit to keep the storm out) but because I knew a scary flying WITCH was coming to get me. A cackling Baba Yaga-esque witch (Indian folklore has similar depictions). And my sister was not taking me seriously at all, nor helping me close the windows. I woke up and immediately texted some of my friends about it and we spent a very enjoyable hour trying to interpret my dream.

No, Gilbert, don't stop laughing at Gertrude's dreams. She needs someone to give her a reality check.

"But work He does, Miss Oliver, and in the end His purpose will be fulfilled." Maybe you should explain this to your anxiety-riddled child instead of lecturing Gertrude, JOHN.

Listen, the whole Robert Grant incident was tragic and I can't imagine how awful it was for Gertrude. But it's doing nothing to dispel my 'oh yeah, my boyfriend goes to another school—that's why you haven't met him' story line. Like, 'you could have met him but unfortunately, he was killed heroically in the war.'

"and then 'joy came in the morning' as the Bible says" Interesting! Wasn't this the verse Anne quoted after hearing that Gilbert was out of danger? Another parallel for @gogandmagog's list.

"because everybody else had gone to the station to meet Di and Nan coming home from Redmond." RIP to two more siblings Rilla doesn't care about lmaoo

"Anyhow, my king and country need me now to cut potato sets for the back garden" I do not enjoy Susan's jingoism but I deeply admire her pragmatism. Even when the world is burning, dinner has to be cooked and the dishes washed, and she is unflinching in doing her everyday duty.

I know the text wants us to loathe Whiskers and grudgingly like Norman Douglas but I severely dislike both. Not sure why, but Norman Douglas has always struck me as a discount Marshall Elliot. Like he wishes he was Marshall.

"I am afraid that there must be something incurably frivolous about me, because, right in the middle of it all, with me crying and Fred looking so wild and tragic, the thought popped into my head that it would be an unendurable thing to see that nose across from me at the breakfast table every morning of my life." Rilla continues to be insanely relatable to me.

"If Fred's nose were as handsome as his eyes and mouth some such thing might have happened. And then what an unthinkable predicament I should have been in!" PLEASE I'm screaming she's so funny asdfghjk

This dude with the two first names is entirely too chill asking for a kiss from a girl who just said she doesn't like you like that. (Yes, yes, I know Arnold can be a last name, but Hey Arnold! made an impression on me as a child.)

Love how Ken (from Toronto) and Fred (from somewhere in the Four Winds general area) know that they're rivals when no one else in the entire Blythe family seems to sense this love triangle. Were they chatting with their respective guy friends about "the interloper"?

Were Leslie, Owen, and Persis as shook as Anne when Ken announced his engagement to Rilla? Did they have some inkling? Did Anne write to Leslie to discuss this development once she found out? Did Anne discuss this with Gilbert so he'd be less confused later?

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Blood Will Out Ch 37 - Meeting the Lady of Mechanicsburg

<Prev | AO3

Lady Agatha Heterodyne was fifteen years old, a few inches shorter than Gilgamesh even standing drawn up at her full height. She had Lucrezia’s long, blonde hair, but the little cowlick at the back undermined the similarity – in fact, it appeared to be the only Mongfish trait that had not drowned in the sea of Heterodyne blood. 

Lady Heterodyne was flanked on either side by her grandparents, both of whom looked unspeakably proud of her, which Klaus hoped was a good sign – at least as far as Teodora was concerned. On Teodora’s left was Tarvek Sturmvoraus, the catalyst to this debacle. 

There were far too many Jäger guards on the doors, but as they were all outside the room, Klaus felt certain it was more for the Jägers’ sake than to serve as a threat or a show of power.

Klaus would say they had been waiting a long time for this…but 'waiting' implied hope.

Lady Heterodyne's expression was an awkward one – she was trying to look reserved but not unwelcoming, proud but not aloof, friendly but not vulnerable, and strong but not aggressive, and succeeded in managing none of them at all. But she met his eyes without flinching. She was nervous, yes, but not afraid and not the least bit uncertain.

It made her look so much like Bill that for a moment Klaus’ heart ached.

“Lady Agatha Heterodyne,” Klaus said, and added, “Lately known as Miss Agatha Sannikova.”

Teodora ignored the jab. 

“Greetings, Herr Baron,” Agatha said, and tipped her head a very deliberate few centimeters – just enough to be a polite nod between equals, implying neither deference nor superiority. “I apologize for meeting you in the council’s chambers, and not the castle, but while it is safe to go in now, it’s not nearly clean enough to entertain in.”

“No offense taken,” Klaus said, returning her polite nod at the exact same number of centimeters.

He wondered who had coached her. Teodora Vodenicharova had once had the beginnings of a very promising political career, before it was derailed by…circumstances. General Goomblast knew court etiquette better than most of the Fifty Families. General Khrizhan studied people, particularly how to get them to see what they wanted to see. Sturmvoraus was young, but like all his family had been raised from birth to play the political game. 

Whatever kind of ruler she wanted to be, the Lady Heterodyne would never want for advisors.  

“I will admit,” Klaus said, “to being caught somewhat off-guard.”

“That was the goal,” Saturnus said smugly.

“Saturnus,” Teodora hissed, and looked meaningfully at Agatha. “Her moment.”

Saturnus actually looked abashed.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Klaus waited to see if the world would end or reality would otherwise tear itself to shreds, but it didn't even seem to notice that a Heterodyne had apologized. 

Perhaps he had misheard. 

“I guarantee,” Lady Heterodyne said, “that you aren’t nearly as surprised as I was. When we say no one was told, we mean no one. There were five people in the world who knew, when all this started. Two of them figured it out on their own, and I found out by accident.”

"And who brought you to Mechanicsburg?" 

"Uncle Barry," Agatha said. "He used to visit when he could, but he always had to stay hidden so no one would recognize him. But, um." Her mouth wobbled, Teodora put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the mouth grew strong again. "He hasn't been back in a long time." 

Klaus wanted to ask why Barry hadn't come to him – why no one had come to him. He already had the facilities and resources for housing and educating Spark children with dangerous enemies; he had the giant floating fortress; he'd had the Jägers. Black fire, Klaus was probably more qualified than anyone else in Europa to protect a young Heterodyne. 

And Barry had not trusted him. 

Klaus did not ask. 

“I am afraid you have an inauspicious start to your rule, Lady Heterodyne. Mechanicsburg and Sturmhalten have levelled serious charges against one another. One of you is in direct violation of the Pax Transylvania, which means I must take over the investigation personally.”

And, Klaus would admit only to himself, his son had been in a castle with Lucrezia Mongfish’s daughter for a few days and had come out not just alarmingly starry-eyed over her, but convinced of Tarvek Sturmvoraus’ innocence.

I think you were wrong about Tarvek, Gil had said. I know you’re trying to protect me, and I know why you thought what you did, but he is my friend. He really was just trying to help me.

It was deeply concerning.

“The most pressing issue,” Klaus went on, “is that at this moment I do not possess an abundance of trust in anyone involved in this situation.”

“What are you talking about?” Lady Heterodyne asked, baffled. “Sturmhalten said we kidnapped Tarvek. Tarvek says we didn’t kidnap him. Mystery solved.”

“He says he wasn't kidnapped,” Klaus said. This time he met Tarvek’s eyes. The boy was pale, his hands balled into fists, but he met Klaus’ eyes as steadily as Lady Heterodyne had. “But did Aaronev know his son was not kidnapped?”

“He means he thinks it was my idea,” Tarvek said, his voice overloud. He had not yet perfected the art of concealing all thoughts and feelings, and Klaus was surprised to see the grim satisfaction of someone who had expected the worst possible outcome – and received it. “He thinks I made my father think I was being kidnapped, so he would attack Mechanicsburg and either be killed in the fighting or be arrested for violating the Pax Transylvania.”

“Of everyone involved, you have gained the most, Prince Sturmvoraus.”

He looked at Lady Heterodyne, and stopped talking. 

Saturnus had attacked the original Castle Wulfenbach once, when Klaus was young. It had not gone well for him, Klaus’ parents being somewhat more aggressive in their defenses than Klaus’ grandfather had been, but the battle had lasted several hours.

Klaus, no more than ten, had been filled with the sort of horrified curiosity that draws people to stare at accidents. He had taken his spyglass, then a recent birthday present, to a tower room with a window overlooking the battlefield.

Klaus would remember for the rest of his life the moment he’d first seen Saturnus Heterodyne. It was the final push before Saturnus had retreated, when he had realized he was facing a force greater than himself but was not ready to back down. This was someone who would put all his might to bear regardless of the consequences, who would do whatever it took, whatever the cost, to win.

Agatha had her grandfather’s eyes.     

“If you are not going to help, if you aren’t even going to listen to what we have to say before you make your decision, why are you here? Are you going to arrest Tarvek without any proof that he was involved at all?”

Klaus was angering a Heterodyne in her own lair. The ice was not just creaking underfoot, but between the cracks he could see the shadow of a great leviathan emerging from the depths at ramming speed.

“Be careful,” he saw Teodora whisper.

“He’s in the middle of Mechanicsburg,” Saturnus countered. “Alone! We could finish this before it even gets started.”

An angel and a devil on each shoulder, and the Lady of Mechanicsburg right in the middle.

“Do you have any proof that he wasn’t?” Klaus asked. 

“Dot’s our cue!” someone cried, and a door burst open. Three Jägermonsters tumbled in, slightly the worse for wear but grinning broadly. Two of them had burlap sacks slung over their shoulders.      

“Oggie, Dimo, Maxim, you’re here! You’re okay!” Lady Heterodyne cried.

“Und ve broughts hyu proof!” said the Jäger with a horn, dumping his sack out onto the floor. Notebooks, folders, loose papers, and rolled-up blueprints spilled out.   

“Sorry ve’z so late,” said the purple Jäger. “Vuz hard gettink back makink sure all dis din get messed up, und den ve couldn't get to de tunnels to get into town.” Suddenly his smile slid away. “But uh. Hy tink hyu iz goink to vant to head over to Sturmhalten pretty demn qvick.”

Klaus' eye spotted something on one of the loose pieces of paper. He bent down and picked it up. 

It was a blueprint for a hive engine. 

“Und maybe burn everyting in der tunnels under kestle, vhile hyu’s at it.”

Klaus looked again at Tarvek, who was pale and trembling – and there was a real, desperate pleading in his eyes.

“Alright,” Klaus said. “I'm listening."

[bethanydelleman]

I think because it's in two different adaptations, so people assume it's a line from the book. But with online copies, it is so easy to check, just check!

The closest thing (Ch 59):

“Good heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you; but are you certain—forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”

“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”

“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do when I tell you all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”...

Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.

encountered another person in the wild who was like "in the book, Elizabeth said she will only marry for the deepest love"

No she didn't. No she didn't.

NO SHE DIDN'T

Show me where she said that, please. Show me where she said anything about that. The first time Elizabeth says the word love, she's talking about poetry with Darcy. She loves a laugh. She believes Miss Bingley knows her brother is in love with Jane.

I know that both 1995 and 2005 Elizabeth talk about it. But book Elizabeth and Jane do not have that conversation. I cannot find where they discuss their hopes for marriage, or where Elizabeth has any quotes about it.

We know what she feels based on her responses to other people's unions, how Mr Bennet talks about she would feel in an unequal marriage, how things play out. When Charlotte says "I am not romantic", we can take it as an implied contrast to Elizabeth, sure.

but stop pretending like you're quoting the book when you're quoting the adaptations

[just-an-enby-lemon]

The people are different versions but still exist in TMAGP and that absolutly is the one thing moving a very specific TMA AU.

Basically besides joining the Institute, Tim gets very into online supernatural foruns trying to find people with similar experiences. So one day he gets a mysterious mensage from someone about the "thing wearing my brother's skin". The e-mail is about a young lady that says something very similar happened to her and her uncle and she has been investigating similar stories since. They chat more and with Sasha advice Tim decides fuck it and meets the woman, both pretend it's a date.

Everything is well until Tim mentions working dor the Magnus Institute, she, who presented herself only by Gwen, pales and goes "oh you're one of them" and leaves after saying "I'm not playing his games. I'm not feeding him." Tim is very confused, he thinks maybe the Institue tried to investigate her case and failed. They are not in the archive yet so he asks Jon and Sasha with help without giving any detail, basically hoping Sasha conection with Gertrude means she has acess to the archives and Jon being way to into spending long nights working will help them sort whatever Sasha finds.

Except Sasha finds nothing. Until a random day were she comes up with a big grim and goes "you guys won't ever be abble to guess what I found out?" and open in a very funky web page advertising Gwendolyn Bouchard, paranormal lawyer. Sasha is laughting, Jon is ranting about what a paranormal lawyer would even be but Tim is like "oh shit, that's her".

He doesn't connect the dots at first. Or doesn't want to. But he keeps thinking about "I'm not feeding him" and he is like "random question what do you guys know about Elias" and Sasha goes research into it.

At this point he and Jon aren't close friends but they are friends and if their boss is one of the things that ate his brother he needs to figure out something. With the assumption Elias is a clown, Tim does actually notice how creepy Elias is with Jon and is fully "Jon won't belive me but Elias is totally into eating his insides or whatever". So he tells the truth to Sasha and tricks Jon into visiting Gwen's lawyer thing for answers.

I still did not figure out most of the other things, except that Alice and Gwen are together in this verse and Alice made the web design for Gwen's page. I also know I want alt Sam and I want just our Celia who keeps almost meeting them but never doing. Or even a Celia that came back and has a dificult time being at her world and interacting with different versions of people that mattered so much to her.

I don't know still what to do with Sam, because I think Martin was very clearly Jonah backup archivist and the thing is Elias will try to convince Jon Gwen is the crazy/evil one and either he'll suceed making Jon betray his friends and be the archivist but with different assistants (except Martin) or he won't and Martin will start as the archivist. And while backup archivist/archival assistant Sam makes sense I'm unsure I want that for him. I'm thinking maybe this version of Sam after failing to get into Oxford went into a "rebelious" phase instead of doubling down in trying to met his parents high expectations and ended up joining Melanie ghost hunting channel. But not sure.

Like if I actually go the route of Celia is back trying to find help for both her worlds a Sam that's not quite the Sam she knows/cares about would be interesting. Like he is deep down the same but also he isn't in some obvious ways and she might just miss her Sam more. But if this is an AU not as connected with Protocol than maybe a Sam that's pretty much our Sam but if he was in Archives would make sense. Idk.

And ofc Basira and Daisy that I'm always partial to but I have no clue how to add, except maybe with them starting as Gwen and Alice rivals because Gwen attorney bussiness interferes with their sectioned police work. Also Gwen being an attorney is a 100% because I fully think she was her normal manipulative rise to the top and keep the Bouchard's name girl and went into law school for it except she mets Alice and by the same period Jonah happens and she was close to Elias (even if in parts was because she looked better in the family eyes when they were together by comparison) and it changed everything.

I don't know a lot about Alice either but she was Lena's college roomate and atended classes with Colin (yes he is here as well, unsure what to do with him tho). She had a paranormal encounter that left a scar similar but in oposition to Georgie's where she has a "spider sense" sort of think and can feel when the fears are involved, she knows if a library or book fair has a Leitner and where for example. It happened when she was young and possibly involved meeting my boy Gerry but she tried to avoid the supernatural ever since. She was very reluctant over helping Gwen except she acidentaly overheard her talking to "Elias" and Jonah messed with her head. More importantly she knows that ignoring sometimes is worse because some secret involving her baby brother who may or may not have joined Grifters Bone and becamed a Slaughter Avatar.

The supernatural lawyer was a joke from Alice but Gwen took it seriusly and Alice was loke "really?" and guess this moron will need help to not die/became an avatar and became her paralegal (tho it had nothing to do with her actual college diploma).

[moonlightwritingf1]

Not so Innocent | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ After Lando wins the 2025 championship, he finally gets his chance with Y/N, Oscar's younger sister. Although everyone always assumed she was the innocent one, her surprising confidence and intriguing personality reveal that there’s far more to her than meets the eye.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader, Lando Norris x Piastri!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 8.4k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering?, rough sex, choking?, gagging on cock, multiple orgasms, deep throat, cum eating?

Based on this request.

A steady cheer buzzed through the open-air club in Abu Dhabi, where bright lights sprayed across the dance floor. The entire McLaren team had gathered to celebrate Lando Norris’s triumphant win—his very first Formula One World Drivers’ Championship. It was early December 2025, and the desert air, warm and dry, carried laughter, congratulatory toasts, and the distant hum of music through the night.

Just beyond the crowd, Lando stood by the bar, a gleaming smile never leaving his face. At 26, he was the new champion, that fresh hint of pride in his eyes. His adrenaline remained high from the race weekend, and every so often, he’d run a hand through his hair, pushing away the constant attention to keep his composure.

Standing only a few feet away from him, Y/N drifted in and out of friendly conversations. She had come from Australia a few days earlier to see the final race of the season—she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Her brother, Oscar, drove for McLaren too, a year older than Y/N, but always protective, especially when it came to Lando. Y/N had always been known as the “innocent” one: a certain polite gentleness in how she spoke, a sweet sincerity in her eyes. Yet there was a flicker of quiet confidence inside her that wasn’t always visible to everyone else—Lando had glimpsed it, now and then, whenever she teased him or met his jokes with her own quick wit.

Music pounded on, and the swirl of lights highlighted everyone’s beaming faces. Lando caught her eye, and she felt a small thrill shoot through her. She allowed herself a timid smile, remembering how that same grin of his had her heart fluttering at Silverstone earlier in the year, or in Monza, or anywhere else she’d seen him. He’d always greet her with a relaxed wave and a playful comment or two, but she’d never thought he would want anything beyond casual banter, especially not with her older brother’s protective gaze forever in the background.

Yet here they were, hugging the edges of the party, energy crackling between them like a secret.

Oscar, for his part, was comfortably nestled in a conversation with McLaren’s top engineers, praising the car's performance that season. Y/N was grateful her brother was distracted. He was good at playing the watchful sibling—he’d made it perfectly clear to Lando that Y/N was “off-limits,” especially after glimpsing some of Lando’s rumored “playboy” ways. Tonight, however, most eyes were either on the new World Champion or on the free-flowing champagne.

Y/N found herself leaning on the bar, sipping ginger ale, content to remain a quiet observer. She wore a sleek dress in a soft color, its silhouette hugging her figure more than her usual casual outfits. Perhaps that subtle confidence she sometimes hid away was seeping through this evening—she felt radiant, certain, even daring.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Lando slipped over to her, wearing a conspiratorial grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “I know you don’t have a race to run tomorrow. Are you afraid of letting loose, or are you just saving your energy?”

She arched an eyebrow, playful. “You might be the champion, Lando, but you don’t get to make me do anything I don’t want,” she teased. “Besides, maybe I’m enjoying the view from right here.”

His eyes sparkled. He was used to easy flirtations, but he couldn’t deny it—something about Y/N always made his heart race. “I’m definitely enjoying the view,” he returned, letting the slightest hint of flirtation linger in his tone.

They chatted about the race. Y/N told him how she thought his overtakes had been flawless under pressure. Lando responded by asking about her time in Melbourne, how she found the racing scene there and how proud her parents were of both her and Oscar. Slowly, they drifted deeper into conversation, the rest of the party falling away. At some point, he guided her away from the bar with a gentle hand at her waist, heading for a quieter corner where the music felt less thunderous.

They settled into a plush lounge seat. Her body angled toward him, knees nearly touching. She could smell the faint cologne on his skin, something warm and woodsy. She noticed the silver bracelet glittering on his wrist, the same one he always wore—said it was a lucky charm from a friend.

Lando leaned close, voice pitched just for her ears. “You know, Oscar told me the day I met you that I’d better not get any ideas.” He lifted an amused brow. “Reckon he saw something in the way I looked at you.”

Y/N laughed a little. “Well, he does claim to read minds. He’s not as good as he thinks, though.” She paused, tapping a thoughtful finger to her lips. “And…what about you? Did you really have ideas?” She couldn’t believe she was being so forward, her usual timidity melting into the swirling atmosphere of possibility.

He rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, gaze fixed on her. “I did,” he admitted, speaking over the heavy throb of music, “but I never acted. Figured you’d see me the way most people do—a flirty driver with a short attention span.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re more than that. At least…you seemed more than that to me. Been watching you for a while, you know.”

Heat coursed between them at that admission, and neither of them seemed to mind how close their hands had gotten. His fingers brushed against hers. She caught her breath—this was too intense, but also exhilarating.

He lowered his head a fraction, close enough that she could feel his breath fan across her cheek. “Congratulations are in order for me. But now I’m thinking I should congratulate you—on staying so patient. On seeing what others might not see in me.”

She stifled a small, nervous laugh. “Lando, you might want to be careful with lines like that. You’ll give a girl the wrong idea.”

“Maybe it’s the right idea,” he murmured.

Her heart fluttered. Everything felt magnified: the lights, the vibrations of the music, his presence. The day had been an emotional one—he had just been crowned champion, after all. They were in the glowing aftermath of victory, and the tension they’d been ignoring for months had finally found a moment to surface.

Suddenly a wave of applause and a burst of cheering ruffled the room; some of the team had decided to raise Oscar up, presumably praising him for his own strong season. A few faces turned in Lando’s direction, inviting him over. He gave them a quick, friendly wave but stayed in place, eyes only for Y/N.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and set aside her empty glass on a nearby table. “They need you,” she said softly.

He shrugged, unwavering. “But I need you more.”

Her cheeks heated, and a ripple of excitement wound through her chest. She tried to scold him lightly—“You’d better not let your fans hear you say that”—but her voice cracked with amusement.

Before either of them could talk themselves out of the moment, he leaned in. Cautiously at first, as if testing boundaries. Y/N inhaled sharply, parted her lips. Their mouths found each other in a slow, sweet brush that built with every passing second. In the back of her mind, she realized exactly what they were doing, that they were in the midst of the McLaren celebration. But the world felt thousands of miles away.

His lips pressed against hers with rising urgency, and she made the faintest sound of surprise and delight. The taste of him—spearmint gum and leftover champagne—sent warmth crackling through her. She looped her arms around his neck, and he responded by pulling her closer to his body, their hearts pounding in unison.

After a few moments of stolen kisses, they broke apart, breathless. The corners of Lando’s mouth curled into a grin, as if he couldn’t believe he was finally allowed to kiss her. She had an almost dazed expression, lips tingling.

He swallowed, took a steadying breath. “Come with me,” he whispered.

Her eyes flicked around at the crowd. “Back to your hotel?”

He gave a brisk nod, the glint in his eye telling her precisely where his thoughts had traveled. “I…well, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

She laughed, a sound full of gentle mischief. “Not even a little.”

A few minutes later, with some well-timed goodbyes and a quick word to a clueless Oscar—who seemed too preoccupied with a new wave of celebration to question his sister’s exit—Lando and Y/N slipped out. The short drive back to Lando’s hotel was a blur: the taxi’s radio, the neon lights of Abu Dhabi passing by, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as she leaned into him. They didn’t speak much; the tension they had tiptoed around for so long now simmered tangibly between them.

As soon as they reached the suite—a luxurious room with a spectacular view of Yas Marina Circuit—Lando swiped the keycard. The heavy door clicked shut behind them. The instant the latch caught, he turned to her. They stood close, the hush of air-conditioning the only sound.

And then, as though a dam had broken, he cupped her face and kissed her again, this time with a fervor that made her head spin. She responded with equal fervency, letting her fingertips press into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his heart hammering beneath.

Their breathing grew ragged. Fingers tangled in each other’s hair; hands traveled over backs, arms, waists. Y/N surprised him with just how brazen she was—there was no shy hesitation in her touches now. She was urging him on, meeting every kiss with more boldness.

“Do you know,” he murmured between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this?”

Y/N, savoring the heat of his breath on her neck, whispered back, “I could only guess.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a sly smile, one that took him by surprise. “You’re not the only one.” Her hands slid down his chest, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Lando’s breath hitched as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, her touch lingering on his skin. He had always imagined her as sweet, innocent, but the way her fingers traced his abs, the way her gaze burned with intensity, told him he had been very wrong.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re… not at all what I expected.”

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “And what did you expect? A blushing virgin who didn’t know what to do?” Her hands slid to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. “I might look innocent, Lando, but I’m far from it.”

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “Prove it,” he challenged, his tone daring.

She didn’t hesitate. With a confidence that left him breathless, she pushed him back onto the bed, following him down without breaking their gaze. Her lips found his again, this time with a hunger that matched his own. Her hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch of him, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Lando groaned, his own hands slipping under her dress, sliding it up her thighs.

“God, Y/N,” he gasped as her lips moved to his neck, her teeth grazing his skin. “You’re driving me crazy.”

She smiled against his neck, her hands working on the zipper of her dress. “Good.” The dress slid down her body, pooling at her feet, and Lando’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. She was stunning, her confidence radiating as she stood before him, unashamed and unapologetic.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his hands reaching for her. But she stepped back, shaking her head with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Not yet,” she teased, her voice low and sultry. She knelt before him, her hands resting on his thighs, and Lando’s breath caught as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Y/N,” he warned, his voice strained, but she only smiled, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers.

“Relax, Lando,” she purred, leaning in closer. “Let me take care of you.”

She didn’t waste a moment, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. With a swift, practiced motion, she tugged them down, along with his boxers, leaving him fully exposed. 

Lando’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the sheets as he watched her kneel before him, her eyes locking onto his with a confidence that sent a jolt of electricity through him. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, but instead of the shy, tentative kiss he expected, she paused, her gaze never leaving his. Then, with a wicked smirk, she spat onto his cock, the sound sharp and wet in the quiet room.

Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with shock. “Shit—look at the mess you just made… you’re so fucking filthy,” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. The spit glistened on his length, and Y/N didn’t waste a second. She licked it up slowly, her tongue flicking over the tip before she spat again, this time letting it trail down his shaft, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I didn’t expect you to be this messy… but fuck, I love it,” he admitted, his hips bucking slightly as she worked. “You’re spitting on my cock like you fucking own it.”

She smirked up at him, her fingers tightening around the base of his cock as she leaned in, her lips wrapping around him once more. But this time, she didn’t stop at the tip. She deepthroated him effortlessly, taking him all the way down her throat like she had done it a thousand times before. Lando’s head fell back, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he felt her throat tighten around him. “Shit—baby, you’re full of fucking surprises, aren’t you?” he gasped, his voice strained with desire. “You didn’t even hesitate… fuck, baby, you’re actually trying to kill me.”

The sensation was overwhelming—her mouth was warm, wet, and impossibly tight, her throat muscles constricting perfectly around him. “Look at you, taking every fucking inch. Didn’t think you had it in you,” he breathed, his hand tangling in her hair. “You’re not even gagging—fuck, that’s so fucking hot.” His cock throbbed inside her mouth, every inch of him enveloped in pure pleasure, and he could feel his control slipping with every stroke of her tongue.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her lips swollen and glistening with spit, and looked up at him with a look that sent a shiver down his spine. “I swear to God, Y/N, I’ve never been this hard in my life,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “You really know what you’re doing, don’t you? How the fuck did I not see this side of you before?” She didn’t respond with words, her mouth returning to him with a hunger that left him breathless.

Her hands rested on his thighs, gripping tightly as she looked up at him, her eyes never leaving his. “Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding, her lips glistening with spit. “Fuck my throat, Lando. I want you to use me.”

Lando’s breath caught, his cock twitching at the demand. “Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “You’re so fucking filthy. You really want me to fuck your throat? You’re not holding back, are you?”

She didn’t respond with words, only a wicked smirk as she leaned back in, her lips wrapping around him once more. This time, she didn’t wait for him to take control. She bobbed her head, taking him deep, her throat tightening around him in a way that made him groan. “Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You’re actually letting me do this? You’re not even—Jesus, Y/N, you’re perfect.”

Her hands tightened on his thighs, urging him on. “Do it,” she managed to say between strokes, her voice muffled but clear. “Fuck my throat like you mean it.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into her mouth, and he let out a guttural moan as he felt her throat constrict around him. “Shit, baby, you’re taking it so fucking well,” he growled, his pace quickening. “You’re letting me use you like this, huh? Such a good fucking girl. Fuck, you’re drooling all over me. Look at you, making such a mess for me.”

Y/N’s moans vibrated around him, her eyes never leaving his, and he could feel his control slipping with every thrust. “I swear to God, Y/N, I’ve never been this hard in my life,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “You’re not even flinching. You’re just letting me take you, letting me fuck your throat like it’s mine. How the fuck did I not see this side of you before?”

She smirked around him, her hands sliding up to his hips, pulling him deeper. “Harder,” she managed to choke out, and Lando obeyed without hesitation, his hips slamming against her face as he lost himself in the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re trying to kill me,” he gasped, his voice strained. “You’re so fucking good at this. You’re going to make me come if you keep going like this.”

But she didn’t stop. If anything, she took him deeper, her throat swallowing him whole as he lost himself in the pure, unrelenting pleasure of her mouth. “You’re perfect,” he panted, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Lando’s cock ached with need, his hips thrusting into her mouth with abandon. Her throat was a tight, wet heat that drove him wild, and the way she took him so easily, so hungrily, was almost too much to bear. “Didn’t think my sweet, innocent girl would be this fucking filthy,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you? Taking me down your throat like you were made for it.”

Y/N’s eyes watered slightly as he pushed her to her limit, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she moaned around him again, her hands gripping his thighs as she took every inch he gave her. “Shit, I can feel you gagging, but you’re still taking it. Such a good girl,” he murmured, his grip on her hair tightening. “You’re making me lose my fucking mind, baby.”

His hips moved faster, his cock sliding in and out of her throat with a wet, rhythmic sound. “Look at you, eyes watering, but you’re still begging for more,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do. You just know. Fuck, that’s so hot.” The room was filled with the sounds of her moans and his ragged breaths, the tension between them reaching its breaking point.

“You’re sucking me like you want to ruin me, baby. And it’s working,” he groaned, his body trembling under her touch. Lando could feel himself teetering on the edge, his body taut with pleasure as she continued to drive him wild. “Baby, you’re too fucking good at this… are you sure you’re as innocent as everyone thinks?” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled back once more, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes locked onto his with a look that told him she was far from done. “You’re going to be the death of me, Y/N,” he groaned, his body trembling under her touch. “But fuck, what a way to go.”

She looked at him with a smirk. “Still think I’m innocent?”

He laughed, the sound breathless and rough. “Not even close.”

She stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving his as she reached behind her to unhook her bra. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing her breasts, the nipples already hard with anticipation. She let the bra fall to the floor, her hands trailing down her body as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties. With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid them down her legs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. The sight of her completely naked, her pussy glistening with arousal, sent a jolt of desire through Lando that made his cock throb painfully.

“Tell me, Lando,” she purred, her voice low and sultry as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. Her pussy brushed against the length of his cock, the wet heat of her sending sparks of electricity through his body. “How badly do you want me right now?” Her hips rolled slowly, the slickness of her folds sliding along his shaft, teasing him mercilessly.

Lando’s breath hitched, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she ground against him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea.” 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I know you’ve had your fair share of women, but let’s see if any of them made you feel like this.” Her hips moved in slow, deliberate circles, the wet heat of her pussy making his cock ache with need. She could feel every inch of him pressing against her, the thick length of him pulsing with desire as she teased him. 

“Congratulations, world champion,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she rocked against him. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Her hands drifted up to her breasts, her fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples, making them even harder. She moaned softly, the sensation of her own touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her tits bounced slightly with the movement of her hips, the sight of her playing with herself driving Lando wild.

“All this time, you thought I was just Oscar’s sweet little sister… but tell me, Lando, do I still seem so innocent rubbing my pussy on your cock?” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief. Her pussy was so wet, the slickness of her coating his cock as she ground against him, the friction making her moan softly.

Lando’s hands tightened on her hips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as she continued to tease him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’re killing me.”

“You can’t stop staring… is it because you’re turned on, or because you’re still trying to figure out where your sweet, innocent Y/N went?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. Her hips moved faster, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his cock, making him groan.

She could feel the tension building in him, the way his cock pulsed against her, and she knew he was close. But she wasn’t ready to let him have her yet. Her hands continued to play with her breasts, squeezing and kneading them, the sensation making her moan softly. She loved the way it felt, the way her nipples ached with pleasure as she pinched them, the way her tits bounced with the movement of her hips.

“I bet you thought I’d be shy about this… that I’d blush and hesitate. But look at you, Lando. You’re the one left speechless,” she taunted, her voice filled with satisfaction. Her pussy was so wet, the slickness of her coating his cock as she ground against him, the friction making her moan softly.

“You thought you had me all figured out, didn’t you? That I was too good, too sweet, too off-limits. But tell me, do I feel off-limits now?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. Her hips moved faster, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his cock, making him groan.

Lando’s grip on her hips tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as she continued to tease him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. 

“Please…” 

“Please what, Lando?” she purred, her voice filled with amusement. Her hips moved in slow, deliberate circles, the wet heat of her pussy making his cock ache with need. She could feel every inch of him pressing against her, the thick length of him pulsing with desire as she teased him. 

“Please, just take me,” he begged, his voice desperate.

Y/N smirked, leaning down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. “As you wish,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

She lifted her hips slightly, positioning herself over him. The tip of his cock brushed against her entrance, and she moaned softly, the sensation sending a shiver of anticipation through her body. Slowly, she sank down onto him, the thick length of him filling her completely. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she savored the feeling of him inside her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she took him. “You feel so fucking good.”

She opened her eyes, looking down at him with a smirk. “I know,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. 

She started to move, her hips rocking slowly at first, the wet heat of her pussy squeezing him tightly. The sensation was overwhelming, the way her pussy gripped him, the way her wetness coated him, the way her movements sent waves of pleasure through his body.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You’re going to make me come.”

Y/N smirked, her hips moving faster, the wet heat of her pussy squeezing him even tighter. “That’s the idea,” she purred, her voice filled with satisfaction. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. The moment she started to ride him in earnest, the second stroke of her hips was all it took. His cock throbbed inside her, the pressure building until it was unbearable. With a guttural groan, he came, his cum shooting deep inside her, filling her completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm. “I can’t believe I just came so fast.” 

She smirked, her hips still moving slowly, milking every last drop from him. “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she teased, her voice filled with amusement. She loved the way his cum felt inside her, the way it filled her, the way it made her pussy feel even more sensitive.

Lando groaned, his face burning with embarrassment. “Fuck, Y/N, I swear that never happens—” 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Did I really just make the big, bad playboy cum in two seconds?” she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction.

He groaned, his whole face turning red. “Baby, I swear I’m usually better than that.” 

She grinned, dragging a hand down his abs. “I know, but it’s kinda cute seeing you like this.”

He groaned again, his cock still twitching inside her, over-sensitive but still hard. “Okay, in my defense, you feel too fucking good.” 

She raised a brow, her hips moving slightly, teasing him. “Is that supposed to make you sound less pathetic?”

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “Shut up and let me redeem myself.” 

She smirked, her hips still moving slowly, milking every last drop from him. “You’re not done, are you?”

He swallowed thickly, his cock still twitching inside her. “Not even close.”

Y/N smirked, her hips grinding against him slowly, milking every last drop from him. Then, with a deliberate motion, she lifted herself off his cock, his cum already beginning to drip out of her. She watched as his cock slid out of her pussy, the thick length glistening with a mix of her wetness and his cum. Her pussy felt empty without him, the warmth of his release pooling inside her, but the sensation only heightened her arousal. She was still dripping wet, her pussy throbbing with need, her body craving more.

She reached down, her fingers tracing the swollen lips of her pussy, feeling the thick, creamy mess of his cum as it dripped out of her. She sighed softly, the sensation of her own touch sending shivers through her body. She dipped her fingers inside herself, collecting his cum, and then brought them to her mouth, her lips wrapping around them as she sucked them clean. She moaned softly, the taste of him on her tongue making her even wetter. She repeated the motion, her fingers diving back into her pussy, scooping up more of his cum before bringing them back to her mouth, sucking and licking them clean with a wicked smile.

Lando watched her, his breath caught in his throat, his cock already twitching with renewed desire. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way she moved, the way she tasted herself, the way she looked at him with those eyes that told him she was far from done. “Jesus fucking Christ, you are so dirty,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe. He loved the way she cleaned herself, the way she sucked on her fingers, the way she looked at him with that smirk that told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“You love this, don’t you?” she purred, her voice low and sultry as she slipped her fingers back into her pussy, scooping up more of his cum. She brought them to her mouth, her lips wrapping around them as she sucked them clean, her eyes never leaving his. “Being buried between my thighs like you fucking belong there.”

Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she teased him. “You’re actually trying to kill me,” he admitted, his voice shaking. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was, how hard he was again, just from watching her. His cock twitched, the sight of her tasting his cum driving him wild.

She smirked, continuing to clean herself, her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy as she sucked them clean, her eyes locked onto his. “You’re insane,” he breathed, watching her with a mix of disbelief and pure desire. “That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She slid off him. She laughed softly, finally satisfied that she was clean, her pussy still throbbing with need. She lay down on the bed next to him, spreading her legs in an inviting manner. "Now, baby," she purred, her voice filled with promise, "it's your turn."

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He moved down between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he buried his face in her pussy. His tongue flicked over her clit, the taste of her making him groan. He loved the way she tasted, the way she felt, the way her pussy gripped his tongue as he slid it inside her. He loved the way she moaned, the way her hips rocked against his face, the way she pulled his hair, urging him on.

“You’re making me feel so fucking good, baby,” Y/N moaned, her hands gripping his hair tightly as he devoured her. “Keep going.”

Lando groaned, his tongue continued to flicker over her clit, his hands gripping her thighs even tighter as he ate her out. 

“Shit, Lando—yes, just like that,” Y/N moaned, her hips grinding against his face as he sucked on her clit. “Suck on my clit, baby.”

Lando groaned again, he burying his face deeper between her legs. His tongue flicked over her clit with precision, teasing the sensitive bud before diving lower to trace the wet, swollen lips of her pussy. The taste of her was intoxicating—sweet, salty, and uniquely hers—and he couldn’t get enough. He swirled his tongue around her entrance, lapping up her arousal, the sound of her slickness filling the quiet room.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hips instinctively arching toward his mouth as if begging for more. “Oh God, Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him on. Her body was electric, every flick of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure through her.

He responded by sliding his tongue inside her, exploring her tight, warm depths with a hunger that matched her own. She gasped, her thighs trembling under his grip as he worked her with relentless intensity. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her clit one moment and plunging deep the next.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if she could fuse them together.

Lando moaned against her, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through her core. He loved the way she tasted, the way she writhed beneath him, the way her pussy clenched around his tongue as if begging for release. His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips firmly as he devoured her with a fervor that left her breathless.

He paused for a moment, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His lips glistened with her wetness, a wicked smirk playing on his face. “You’re so fucking delicious, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I could eat you out all night.”

Her hips ground against his face with a desperate urgency, her thighs trembling as the pressure built inside her. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” Y/N moaned, her voice shaking with need. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, her fingers threading through the strands as if anchoring herself to him. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

Lando’s tongue worked her clit with expert precision, flicking and swirling in just the right way to drive her wild. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as her movements grew more frantic. He could feel her clenching around his fingers, her body trembling on the edge of release. The taste of her was intoxicating, he couldn’t get enough, lapping at her hungrily as she writhed above him.

“Fuck, Lando—yes, just like that,” she gasped, her voice breaking as the first waves of her orgasm hit her. Her body convulsed, her hips rocking over his face with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. She was losing control, her moans growing louder, more desperate, as her clit throbbed under his relentless tongue. “Oh God, I’m cumming—fuck, I’m cumming!”

Her thighs clamped around his head, her nails digging into his scalp as she gripped his hair even harder, pulling him even closer as she rode out her orgasm. Her pussy pulsed, her tight walls clamping down as her release washed over her in overwhelming waves. She could feel every flick of his tongue, every vibration of his moans against her sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Lando groaned against her, his own body trembling with the intensity of her reaction. He loved the way she came undone on his tongue, the way her hips moved frantically over his face, the way her hands pulled his hair as if she needed him to anchor her. He loved the taste of her, the way she coated his tongue with her arousal. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Her body shook with the force of her orgasm, her hips still grinding against his face as she chased every last bit of pleasure. Her moans were loud, unrestrained, her voice trembling as she cried out in ecstasy. “Oh God, Lando—fuck, I’m still cumming,” she gasped, her thighs trembling around his head as her release continued to wash over her. “You feel so fucking good—don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Lando didn’t stop, his tongue flicking over her clit with relentless precision, drawing out every last shiver, every last moan. He loved the way she responded to him, the way her body quaked with pleasure, the way her hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as she came apart. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Cum for me. Let me taste all of you.”

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, her body trembling with the intensity of it, her pussy pulsing as she rode out the waves of pleasure. When she finally collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, her thighs still trembling, she was utterly spent. “Fuck, Lando,” she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re fucking incredible.”

Lando smirked, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his lips glistening with her wetness. “I told you,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. 

But there was no time for words—his cock was already rock hard again, throbbing with an ache that demanded to be buried deep inside her. He could feel every inch of it straining, veins pulsing under the sensitive skin, the tip slick with pre-cum as it twitched impatiently. His breath was ragged, his body burning with need, and the way she looked at him—eyes filled with desire, lips parted, her chest rising and falling—only made him harder. He wanted her. Needed her.

He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her pussy was glistening, swollen and wet, the sight of her arousal making his cock throb even more. He pressed against her slowly, the head of his cock spreading her open, and they both groaned as he slid inside her, inch by inch. Her pussy was so tight, so warm, the walls clenching around him as if they were made to fit him perfectly. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, his cock buried to the hilt.

For a moment, he stayed still, letting her adjust to him, savoring the way her pussy felt around him—soft, but so tight, gripping him like a fist. He could feel every pulse of her arousal, the wetness coating his cock as he held himself deep inside her. Her pussy felt perfect, like it had been waiting for him all this time, and the thought sent a jolt of pleasure through him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moaned, her hips shifting slightly, and he could feel her walls tightening around him. “I can feel you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can feel every inch of you inside me.” Her pussy was so sensitive, every movement of his cock sending waves of pleasure through her. She loved the way he filled her, the way he stretched her open, the way his cock throbbed inside her, making her feel so full.

But she didn’t want slow—she wanted more. Her nails dug into his hips, her voice pleading. “Fuck, don’t tease me. Give it to me like you mean it.”

Lando hesitated, still worried about being too rough, but she wasn’t having it. “Lando, I don’t want slow. I want you to fuck me like you can’t get enough of me.” Her voice was desperate, her hips grinding against him, urging him on.

He started to move, his cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes. Her pussy clenched around him, the wetness making every movement smooth and effortless. He could feel her walls gripping him, the warmth of her arousal making his cock throb. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “I can feel how much you want this.”

But slow wasn’t enough for her. “I’m not some delicate thing, baby. Fucking break me,” she begged, her voice shaking. Her nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, deeper. “You feel so fucking good, but I need more. Give me more.”

Lando’s control snapped. He grabbed her hips, slamming into her harder, faster, his cock going in and out of her with a rough rhythm that had her crying out. Her pussy clutched him tighter, the wetness making every thrust slick and smooth, her walls squeezing him with every movement. He could feel her arousal coating his cock, the warmth of her pussy enveloping him, making him groan with pleasure. She was so wet, so tight, and the way her pussy gripped him was almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, just like that… but harder. Make me scream for you,” she moaned, her voice trembling. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rocked her hips against him, meeting every thrust with equal fervor. He could feel her pussy tightening around him, her walls throbbing with every movement, and the sensation drove him wild.

“You can be rough with me. I want to feel everything,” she gasped, her voice desperate. His cock was hitting her in all the right places, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her. Her pussy was so sensitive, the friction of his cock inside her making her feel like she was on fire. 

Lando’s pace quickened, his cock slamming into her with a force that had her moaning loudly. Her pussy was soaking wet, every thrust making her walls clench around him, the wetness coating his cock as he fucked her. He could feel her pussy gripping him, the warmth of her arousal making his cock throb with every movement. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name,” she panted, her voice shaking.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “Only mine.” His thrusts became more erratic, his cock plunging into her with a wild rhythm that had her crying out. He could feel her walls throbbing around him, her arousal making every movement slick and smooth.

She grabbed his hand, dragging it to her throat without a word. He hesitated for a moment, but she moaned when he tightened his grip, her nails digging into his back. “You like this, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “You like when I take control.”

She moaned, her voice muffled by his hand on her throat. “Yes,” she gasped. “Make me yours, Lando. Fuck me like I belong to you.”

The gesture—her moving his hand to her throat—was so unexpected, so fucking hot that it made him lose control. He tightened his grip slightly, his thrusts becoming even more erratic, his cock slamming into her with a force that had her moaning loudly. She loved the way he took control, the way he made her feel so vulnerable, so completely his.

But then, when his hand moved to her clit, she slapped it away. “Watch me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice filled with mischief. She reached down, her fingers brushing against her clit as she started to rub herself. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut as she moaned. “You like seeing me like this, don’t you? So needy, so fucking wet for you.”

Lando couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she touched herself, the way she moaned, the way her pussy clenched around his cock—it was driving him wild. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

She smirked, her fingers moving faster. “I want to feel you deep inside me while I make myself come,” she panted, her voice desperate. She was so close, her pussy tightening around him, her walls throbbing with every movement. “Fuck, Lando… keep watching me. Don’t look away.”

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her body convulsing as she came, her pussy clenching around his cock with a force that had him groaning. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She panted, her body trembling as she rode out her orgasm, her fingers still moving against her clit. “Let me ride you,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Let me make you come.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped them over, letting her straddle him. She sank down onto his cock, her pussy still throbbing from her orgasm, and started to ride him with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. 

Her hands pressed firmly into his chest, nails digging into his skin as she rode him with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. Y/N’s hips moved with a ferocity that left Lando breathless, his hands gripping her waist tightly to steady her. He had imagined her sweet, slow, and tentative, but she was bouncing on his cock like she was trying to break him. Her pussy gripped him with every downward stroke, the tight, wet heat of her walls clenching around his length in a way that made his thoughts blur.

Her tits bounced inches from his face, jiggling with every frantic movement of her hips. The sight alone had Lando groaning, his hands moving from her waist to cup her breasts, kneading them roughly as she rode him. She moaned, her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her back in a wild, tangled mess. "Cum for me, baby," she panted, her voice dripping with desperation. "I want to feel you spill inside me."

Lando’s cock throbbed inside her, the sensation of her pussy squeezing him so tightly making it impossible to hold back. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and strained. "You’re not even giving me a chance to breathe."

She smirked, her hips never slowing as she leaned forward, her tits practically smothering his face. "You love knowing I’m not as innocent as you thought, don’t you?" she teased, her voice laced with mischief. "You love knowing I can fuck you just as good as you fuck me."

Her pussy felt incredible—welcoming, tight, and dripping wet. Every time she rose and fell on his cock, he felt her walls grip him, the sheer wetness of her making every movement slick and smooth. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, as if they were milking him for every drop. For Y/N, his cock felt like fire, stretching her open, filling her completely, the thick length of him hitting every sensitive spot as she rode him. She could feel every vein, every throb, every inch of him inside her, and it was driving her wild.

She leaned back, her hands finding the headboard behind her, and used it as leverage to fuck him even harder. Her tits bounced wildly in his face, the nipples hard and begging for attention. Lando reached up, pinching and tugging at them, making her moan as her hips moved faster, slamming down onto him with a force that had him groaning.

"Have you ever been fucked like this before?" she asked, her voice teasing, though she already knew the answer. She could feel him shaking beneath her, his cock throbbing inside her as he struggled to keep control.

"Fuck, no," Lando admitted, his voice trembling. "No one’s ever made me feel this good."

She smirked, slowing her movements just enough to lift herself off his cock completely, leaving him empty and aching. She made him watch as she sank back down onto him, the slow, deliberate motion driving him crazy. Her pussy stretched around him, the wetness making everything slick and effortless, and she moaned as she took him to the hilt.

"You like watching me take you, don’t you?" she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

"Baby, don’t play with me like this," Lando groaned, his hands gripping her thighs tightly. "I’m barely holding on."

She laughed softly, her hips rolling as she leaned forward, her tits brushing against his chest. "Feel that, baby?" she purred. "How wet I am? All for you."

Her third orgasm began to build, a slow, steady pressure that started deep in her core and spread outward with every thrust. She could feel the ache growing, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as she rode him. "Lando, I’m gonna cum," she gasped, her voice shaking. "Fuck, I need you to fill me up."

His hands tightened on her hips, his cock throbbing inside her as he struggled to keep control. "Let go, baby, let go," he pleaded, his voice rough. "I need to feel you cum around me."

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her pussy clenching around him with a force that had them both crying out. "Shit, baby, I’m cumming!" she screamed, her body trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Lando groaned, his own release following almost instantly. "Fuck, yes, baby, cum for me," he gasped, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her, filling her completely. "Shit, I’m right there with you."

Her pussy felt incredible to him—warm, tight, and throbbing as she came around him. For Y/N, his cock felt like heaven, the thick length of him stretching her open as he filled her with his cum. She could feel the warmth of his release pooling inside her, making every movement of her hips even more sensitive.

"I’m so fucking full, baby," she panted, her voice trembling. "Oh my God, I can feel you filling me up."

Lando groaned, his body shaking as he buried himself deep inside her. "I’m not pulling out, baby," he admitted, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Fuck, I need to fill you up."

She collapsed onto his chest, her body trembling as they both came down from their high. Her pussy still pulsed around his cock, the aftershocks of her orgasm making her shiver. "I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let you go after this," she whispered, her voice soft and sated.

Lando chuckled, his hands gently stroking her back. "Good," he murmured, his voice filled with promise. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender, almost innocent kiss—a stark contrast to the way she’d just destroyed him moments ago. Her soft, sweet mouth moved over his, soothing and gentle, like a quiet reminder of the girl he thought he knew. But as he kissed her back, his mind reeled, still trying to reconcile the softness of her lips with the filth she’d just unleashed on him. She’d taken him apart completely, shattered every expectation he’d had about her, and now here she was, kissing him like nothing had changed.

Lando’s hands slid up her back, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of her lips and the taste of her lingering on his tongue. She was a paradox, a beautiful, maddening contradiction—all sweet innocence and untamed desire. How had he not seen this side of her before? How had he ever thought she was just Oscar’s sweet little sister?

When they finally broke apart, her lips curved into that wicked smirk he was starting to adore, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken. He stared at her, breathless and utterly ruined, and realized with startling clarity that he’d never really known her at all. And somehow, that only made him want her more.

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[marscardigan]

after midnight

neighbor!ellie williams x reader

neighbor!ellie universe

summary: turns out having your girlfriend as a neighbor might have its pros.

word count: 5.5k

THE BELL ABOVE the record store door chimed as you stepped inside, the off-key jingle already familiar. That comforting scent of old CDS, wood polish, and faint incense hit you instantly—Ellie’s world, lived in and real, and lately? A place you’d started thinking of as your favorite part of the day.

Your eyes scanned the shop, smiling instantly when you spotted her behind the counter. Ellie was bent over a stack of records, tongue peeking out between her lips as she scribbled some price tags. She was in her usual uniform—baggy flannel, sleeves pushed to her elbows, her tattooed forearm lazily resting against the register. Her hair was a little tousled, cheeks flushed like she’d been rushing around, and she was mouthing lyrics to whatever was playing softly overhead—Pixies, if you were hearing it right.

You leaned against the counter. "Hey, pretty girl."

Ellie jumped slightly, then quickly smoothed out her expression—though the pink in her cheeks deepened instantly. "You’re gonna give me a heart attack doing that," she mumbled, but her eyes sparkled as she took you in. "Also… hey."

"Missed me much?"

Ellie tried to act chill, but her smirk betrayed her. "Nah. I’ve had a great time reorganizing punk bands alphabetically. Living the dream."

"She’s lying," Jesse called out from the back. "She changed her shirt three times this morning."

"Dude," Ellie hissed.

You turned your grin toward Jesse, who was leaning out from behind one of the shelves with a box of used records. "Seriously?"

"She tried to wear the black one, then the gray one, then the black one again. I told her it didn’t matter, but apparently it really matters what you wear when your girlfriend comes by."

Ellie groaned and dropped her head to the counter. "I will kill you."

Jesse shrugged, unfazed. "Not before I write a song about this moment and play it in your funeral slideshow."

You laughed, leaning closer to Ellie’s crumpled form. "So… black shirt, huh?"

Her voice was muffled against the countertop. "I thought you liked the black one."

"I do." You reached up and gently tugged the collar of her flannel, teasing. "But I like you flustered even more."

Ellie sat up, squinting at you. "You’re evil."

You just gave her your most innocent smile.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms and pretending to lean back casually, "well if you’re gonna come in here looking like that—"

"Like what?"

"You know what," she muttered, her voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch.

Jesse groaned from the back again. "If you two start making out on the counter, I’m calling your mom."

"I like her mom," Ellie shot back.

"Yeah, and her mom likes me more. Be afraid."

You choked on your laugh as Ellie blinked, betrayed. "What—"

"She follows me on Instagram," Jesse added smugly, vanishing back into the jazz section.

"Unreal," Ellie muttered.

You brushed your fingers against hers on the counter. "I think he might be my favorite coworker of yours."

"I am your favorite coworker!" Jesse yelled without missing a beat.

Ellie just stared at you, that little soft look settling back on her face. "He is a pain, I will give that, but… he likes you. A lot."

"Clearly." You bumped your knee against hers. "You jealous?"

Ellie raised a brow, her lips twitching. "You want me to be?"

"Maybe," you replied sweetly. "You’re cute when you get all huffy."

Ellie leaned in just a little, her voice low and teasing. "If you want me to get huffy, you’re gonna have to flirt with someone hotter than Jesse."

After a while, Ellie disappeared into the back and returned with something wrapped in brown paper.

"I got this for you," she said, suddenly a little shy again, eyes flicking to yours and then away. "Didn’t know if you had it, but I... I thought of you when I saw it."

You opened the paper gently—and gasped.

It was a first press vinyl. An artist you’d mentioned only once, months ago, during a late night cuddle session on her couch. She must’ve remembered.

Your voice came out soft. "Ellie…"

"It’s not a big deal," she said quickly, playing with her fingers nervously. "It’s kind of scratched, but I cleaned it up. Should play fine. Just figured…"

You were already throwing your arms around her neck.

She froze for a beat, then melted into you, her hand finding the small of your back instinctively.

"You’re unbelievable," you whispered.

Ellie buried her face in your shoulder, voice muffled. "You say that like it’s a good thing."

You pulled back enough to kiss her cheek, right below her freckle. "It is."

From the back, Jesse made a gagging sound, but neither of you moved away.

The rest of the day went slow and sweet. You stayed until closing, perched behind the register on the stool, flipping through albums while Ellie teased you with music trivia.

She got bolder as the afternoon stretched on—resting her hand on your thigh beneath the counter, brushing her fingers over yours whenever she walked by, low murmurs in your ear that made your chest flutter every time.

YOU WERE TRYING to not psych yourself out too much. Really, you were. You were just going to hang out with Ellie’s best friends, Jesse and Dina. You already knew Jesse. He was easy. Friendly. Teased Ellie in a way that made you feel instantly included.

But Dina… Well. You’d seen her that morning in the hallway, laughing with Ellie like something out of a damn romcom movie. Cool haircut and easy smile. You didn’t even mean to assume anything, but the image had branded itself into your brain and stayed there for a while.

And now Ellie had invited you to a little movie night at her place. Just the four of you. She’d been smiling, nervous and adorable, when she asked. 'She has been bugging me to meet you. Not in a weird way. Just—she’s just curious. You’re important.' You melted on the spot. Obviously had to say yes.

But now, with the microwave humming behind you and your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your hoodie—Ellie’s hoodie—you were bracing yourself for impact.

"Stop looking like you’re about to be sacrificed," Ellie said as she grabbed a drink from the fridge. She was dressed with a faded band tee and sweatpants, her freckles dusted pink with amusement.

"I’m not," you said, not very convincing. "I just—what if Dina hates me?"

Ellie frowned, slightly offended. "Why the hell would Dina hate you?"

You shrugged, and she gave you the Ellie Look. The one that meant you’re being ridiculous, but I also kind of love it. Then, softer: "She’s gonna love you." Then, quickly—"Not like that. I mean—love, like—fuck, you know what I mean."

You laughed, cheeks hot. "You're really bad at calming people down."

"I try my best," she mumbled, nudging your hand with hers. "C’mon. They’re almost here."

The knock came five minutes later, followed by the familiar voice of Jesse shouting through the door, "Ellie! I brought snacks and our combined bad taste in movies!"

Ellie pulled the door open and Jesse walked in like he owned the place, a bag of chips tucked under one arm and a six-pack in the other. "Hey, stranger," he grinned at you, giving you a one-armed hug. "Looking dangerously cozy tonight."

You laughed, giving him a warm smile. "I dressed up for the occasion."

He turned to Ellie. "So, you finally let her wear your real hoodie, huh? What happened to 'this one’s sacred?"

Ellie blushed furiously. "Shut up, Dude."

Then you heard another voice behind him. "Hi! Sorry, I made us stop to pet a cat. Totally worth it though." You looked up—and there she was. Dina. Radiant, cool, confident. And already giving you a warm smile like you were old friends.

You froze for half a second, caught between smile like a normal human for fuck’s sake and panic. Ellie watched your face like she knew exactly what was going through your mind.

Dina stepped forward and held out a hand. "You must be the neighbor. Ellie’s been hopelessly annoying about you."

Ellie groaned, face-palming behind you, and Jesse cackled. "It’s true. Still a loser."

Dina added, "I already feel like I know you. You’re basically a character in the group chat."

That made you laugh, the nerves slowly melting away. "Oh god. Hopefully a flattering character?"

"Absolutely!" Dina answered. "Though I do have questions about how you fell for the grumpy music goblin."

"Rude—"

Dina just winked and took your arm. "C’mon, you’re helping me with the popcorn. I need to know everything."

The kitchen turned into your safe zone. You and Dina hit it off shockingly fast—she was funny, warm, a little chaotic in the way that made you laugh constantly. Within ten minutes, she was mock-interviewing you while stirring cheese sauce for nachos.

Dina opened every cabinet in Ellie’s kitchen, grabbing ingredients and tossing them onto the counter. "We’re doing nachos. And maybe pizza."

She passed you a knife and a cutting board, then nudged her hip into yours like the two of you had done this a hundred times before. "So." She glanced at you sideways while dicing tomatoes. "Ellie’s been a wreck since she met you.”

You snorted. "I seriously doubt that."

"Nope. Total disaster. She’d come into work all flustered, humming Green Day like she’s in high school again."

You glanced toward the living room. “Does she always hum Green Day?”

"Only when she’s in a mood," Dina said, mock-serious. "Like, full-on love-sick loser behavior."

You giggled, cheeks warm. "You’re really selling her, wow."

"She’s got layers. Like an onion. Or a tortured lesbian lasagna."

You nearly dropped the knife from laughing. "A tortured lesbian lasagna?"

Dina grinned, clearly proud of herself. "It’s canon now."

You leaned against the counter, biting back a smile. "You’re not what I expected, honestly."

"Oh?" She looked curious. "What did you expect?"

You hesitated, then gave a sheepish shrug. "I kinda… thought you and Ellie were dating."

Dina blinked, then burst out laughing. "Me? God no. We tried kissing once in freshman year and it was like making out with my cousin."

"Oh my god."

"She made this weird sound with her nose," Dina added, pointing at the bridge of her own. "Like, nnchh—I can’t explain it. Traumatizing."

You doubled over in laughter. "You’re insane."

"And you’re adorable," Dina shot back, poking your arm. "I kinda get Ellie now."

You looked down, trying not to grin too hard.

"I’ve never seen her this soft. She’s usually all 'grr I don’t feel emotions unless they’re in minor chords.'"

You snorted. "She’s been very—sweet."

"Sweet?" Dina wiggled her eyebrows. "Did she show you her little CD shrine yet?"

"…Maybe."

"Then yeah, it’s over for her."

You were giggling over the counter with Dina when Jesse tapped Ellie’s shoulder gently, voice low. "She’s cool," he said.

Ellie didn’t take her eyes off the open kitchen. "Yeah."

Jesse watched her for a moment. "You’ve got that dumbass look on your face again."

She looked at him, deadpan. "Eat shit."

Jesse just grinned. "Can’t help it, huh?"

Ellie softened a little, voice quieter. "Can’t help it. I love seeing my favorite people together."

Jesse elbowed her lightly. "You’re so far gone it’s embarrassing."

Ellie didn’t even bother denying it.

Later, you all crammed onto the couch, Ellie squished between you and Jesse, Dina spread out with her feet in Ellie’s lap and her head in yours. The movie was some ridiculous cult classic Jesse insisted on, and most of the time was spent throwing popcorn at each other and cracking jokes.

By the end of it, Jesse and Dina were dead asleepç, and you were almost on that path. Your head was on Ellie’s shoulder. She looked down, nudged your hair gently with her nose, her voice soft. "You okay?"

You looked up. "Yeah. More than okay."

She smiled. "Told you she’d like you."

You leaned in closer, fingers brushing hers beneath the blanket. "Yeah. She’s great."

Ellie gave you this look—one full of warmth, and something deeper that she maybe didn’t even know how to say yet. And you thought, god. You were so screwed for her.

By the time Dina and Jesse left, it was already past midnight, and the apartment had gone utterly quiet. After hours of chaotic laughter and awful movie marathons, everything had finally settled into a hush. You stirred awake in Ellie’s bed, eyes blinking against the soft darkness. The space beside you was cold.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and instinctively looked toward the balcony door. The curtains swayed slightly with the breeze. You walked over, the hardwood cool under your bare feet, and peeked outside.

Ellie was there. Splayed out lazily on the patio couch—bare arms curled around her knees, a cigarette glowing softly in the dark. She was wearing a dark tank top and some oversized boxers, and her hair was a mess of tangled auburn locks.

You opened the door slowly, letting the cool air kiss your skin. "You’re gonna catch a cold out here, you know."

She didn’t turn immediately, but her lips quirked. "Nah. I’m immune."

You stepped out, arms crossed as you sat by her side. "Nuh-huh. That’s what every sick person says right before they get the flu and whine for three days straight."

Ellie glanced over her shoulder with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I’m maybe a little cold. Just didn’t wanna wake you." She leaned her head back, her voice low. "Tonight was good."

You hummed, pleased with the warmth that her body gave you, and suddenly sleepy again.

"I don’t know, it’s just… Jesse and Dina, they’re my people. They’ve been there through some heavy shit, you know? And seeing you with them…it just... it meant a lot."

You softened, your heart swelling in your chest. "I was nervous. With Dina, I mean. After that whole hallway thing, I thought maybe…"

Ellie groaned, her face falling into her hands for a second. "God, I’m never gonna live that down, am I?"

You laughed, nudging her shoulder softly. "Nope. But hey, it worked out."

Ellie took another drag, then stubbed out the cigarette in a tiny tray perched on the table. "It’s just… it’s kinda crazy. How fast this all happened. But it doesn’t feel rushed, y’know? You being here, in my space, it feels… right."

You rested your head on her shoulder, and Ellie immediately leaned into the touch, her cheek brushing against your hair. You could feel her smiling, even if you couldn’t see her face at the moment "It made me really happy."

Your chest ached in the best way. You leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. "You’re really stuck with me, Williams."

She laughed under her breath. "Good. I kinda like being stuck with you."

Eventually, you whispered, “Come back to bed?”

Ellie stood slowly, stretching out her arms. "Only if you promise not to tell Jesse how soft I got just now."

You grinned, taking her hand. “No promises."

YOU WERE barely awake when you heard the sound of a sniffle. Then a sneeze. Then another. Followed by a dramatic groan.

You open your eyes slowly, and turned your head slightly, frowning as you brought the back of your hand to her forehead. "Oh no, Ellie?"

"Mmmgh," she groaned. "I’m dying."

She was curled under three blankets, hoodie pulled tight over her head, only her red nose poking out. "I feel like death," she croaks.

You bit back a smile. "Oh really? That serious, huh?"

She rolled onto her back dramatically. "This is how it ends."

"Uh-huh." You shifted up onto your elbow, brushing a curl from her sweaty temple. "Told you you’d get sick, dummy. What was that you said last night? Something about being immune?"

"I was," she grumbled, voice hoarse. "Now I’m just... weak. Helpless."

"Pathetic, I would say" you offered, as you leaned down to kiss her burning cheek. "You want tea?"

She nodded, sniffling again. "With honey. And I also need like… the healing power of your presence."

You slid out of bed with a mock-salute. "Coming right up, you big baby."

It wasn’t long before you came back with the warm mug, setting it on the nightstand before sitting cross-legged beside her on the bed. Ellie struggled to sit up, groaning dramatically as she wrapped both hands around the tea and sipped carefully.

"You’re an angel," she murmured.

You grinned, brushing your fingers through her hair. "Don’t forget it."

She looked up at you with droopy, red-rimmed eyes. "Hey, uh… babe?"

"Mm?"

"Can you call Joel?" she asked, her voice suddenly a little sheepish. "We were supposed to get lunch today. Can you tell him… we’re canceling?"

You raised an eyebrow, smiling. "We’re canceling?"

Ellie blinked at you.

"No no, baby," you teased, taking the mug from her hands and setting it aside. "I’m telling him you’re canceling. I’m not getting dragged into the wrath of Joel Miller just ‘cause your dumb ass wouldn’t wear a hoodie."

Ellie groaned and flopped back down, covering her face with her pillow. "Cruel. Heartless. Betrayed by my own girlfriend."

"Go cry about it."

"I will, actually."

You laughed and leaned over to grab your phone from the nightstand. "Fine. I’ll call him. But don’t blame me when he tells you I’m the new favorite."

Ellie mumbled something incoherent as you pressed Joel’s contact and hit Call. He picked up after a few rings.

"Yeah?"

"Hey Joel, it’s me."

"Well, hey there, kid," he said, voice warm with recognition. "You and Ellie on your way?"

"Not exactly," you said with a little wince. "Ellie’s, uh… not doing so good."

He immediately sounded more alert. “What’s goin’ on?”

"She’s got a fever," you explained. "Caught something overnight. She’s okay, just cranky and dramatic about it."

Joel let out a soft chuckle. "That sounds about right."

"She wanted me to call and cancel lunch."

Joel sighed but didn’t sound particularly upset. "Figures. I told her to stop running around dressed like it’s summer."

You smiled, glancing over at Ellie, who was now peeking at you with one eye from under her pillow. "I mean, to be fair, she did say she was immune."

That got a full laugh out of Joel. "You takin’ care of her?"

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see. "Yeah, yeah, I got her. Made her tea, bullied her a little."

"Good," he said. "She’s lucky to have you."

Your chest fluttered, and you ducked your head, suddenly warm. "Thanks, Joel."

There was a pause, then his voice softened a bit. "You know, I wasn’t sure about anyone bein’ good enough for her." You blinked, lips parting. "But you… You might’ve shut me up."

Your throat tightened. You tried to swallow around the lump there. "That means a lot. Really."

"Take care of her, alright?"

"Always."

"Alright. I’ll see you two when she’s upright again."

You ended the call slowly, staring at your phone for a second before glancing back at Ellie. She was still under the pillow, but now she had a tiny, dorky smile on her face. "Shut him up, huh?" she said, voice thick with smugness despite the congestion.

You tossed a pillow at her. "You heard that?!"

"I did," she beamed, catching it and holding it to her chest like a trophy. "That’s the best I’ve ever felt while being miserable."

You slid back into bed beside her, pulling the covers up over both of you. "Next time you get a cold, I’m making you call him," you said, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Deal," she whispered, already halfway back to sleep. "Love you."

You froze for just a second. Then your smile bloomed, unstoppable. "Love you too, baby."

YOUR DAY had been a disaster from the second you stepped into work.

It started with someone taking your lunch from the communal fridge — not just any lunch, but the one Elliecooked and poured her time and heart into it, both of you knowing how bad she sucked in the kitchen. The one she’d tucked a dumb little sticky note into, just saying, 'Pasta tastes better when shared w/ me. But I hope this helps. Love you.'

It only spiraled from there. A last-minute meeting turned into your boss questioning your ideas like they were barely coherent. A coworker made a passive-aggressive comment that echoed in your mind hours after. Everything you touched felt off. Wrong. You kept fumbling. Kept overthinking. You felt raw by the time you finally made it home.

You dropped your bag at the door and kicked off your shoes with an exhale that sounded like a sob if anyone had been there to hear it. You started to cry not much later, leaning against the wall for a minute, trying to steady yourself. Trying to remember that tomorrow would be better. That it was just a bad day, not a bad life. But it was hard when everything felt like it had weighed on your back all day long.

It was when you already dercided to skip dinner and crawl into bed that you saw it.

Sitting right in the middle of your little kitchen table was a bouquet — chaotic and beautiful. Lilies, your favorite, some you’d told Ellie you liked months ago, others that looked like she probably just thought were 'cute as fuck.' A few petals had already fallen onto the wood.

Next to it, a folded piece of notebook paper. Torn from the corner of a page, slightly smudged, written in the messy scrawl you recognized instantly.

Hi baby,

Here’s something for you to come home to.

You make everything better. For me. Just by existing. Come over later. Or now. Or whenever. Just know that I love you.

Your El.

You reread it twice before your vision blurred with tears again. But this time they weren’t sad ones, though. Just overwhelming. Just the kind of tears that come from feeling seen, known, and loved. You didn’t even think to grab shoes. You ran barefoot down the hallway, heart pounding, letter clutched in your hand.

Ellie opened the door at the second knock. There was music playing faintly behind her — something soft, acoustic — and her mouth opened to say something, but it caught in her throat the second she saw your face. "Oh," she breathed.

You must’ve looked a mess — eyes red, lashes damp, a slight tremble still in your hands from the adrenaline rush of holding it in all day. You couldn’t even say anything. Just looked at her, your lower lip wavering.

And Ellie —God. Ellie stepped forward so fast, so instinctively, that the door swung all the way open behind her.

"Baby," she whispered, both hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at the tear tracks like they offended her. "Hey. No— come here. Come here."

You let her pull you in, your arms looping tight around her waist as she hugged you, hugged you, like she’d been waiting all day for this exact moment. Like you were something precious and fragile and hers. You buried your face in her neck. Her hoodie smelled like cedarwood and smoke. She smelled like home.

"I— I was gonna text," you mumbled, breath hitching. "But then I saw it and I wanted to say thank you, I just—"

"No, no," she whispered, stroking the back of your head. "You don’t need to say anything. You’re okay. You’re with me."

She guided you inside wordlessly, closed the door with her foot, then walked you backwards toward the couch, her arms never leaving you for a second. She sat first, tugging you gently onto her lap, wrapping herself around you like a human blanket. Her hand rubbed slow, grounding circles up and down your spine.

After a while, when your breathing evened out and your fists unclenched a little against her hoodie, she pressed a kiss to your temple and murmured, "Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head. "Okay." She paused. "Wanna sit in silence and just let me hold you for a while?"

You nodded into her collarbone. Her grip tightened, like she was the one that needed you close. "Done. It’s already happening. You're stuck here. Tough luck."

You huffed a tiny laugh, and she grinned against your skin, proud of herself for pulling it out of you. "I’m sorry," you murmured eventually, voice hoarse. "I feel ridiculous."

Ellie pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. Her expression was so soft, it made you want to cry all over again.

"Don’t you dare," she said. "Don’t you ever apologize for having a hard day. You’re allowed to feel like shit sometimes."

You looked down at your hands in your lap, still nestled in the folds of her hoodie. "I just… I feel like I give and give, and people still find ways to make me feel small. Like I’m not enough."

Ellie took your hands in hers. "You’re more than enough," she said seriously. "You’re everything." Your heart squeezed. "And you didn’t give too much today," she added. "They just didn’t know how to receive it. That’s not on you."

You blinked at her. "Since when did you get so wise?"

She smirked like she was already proud of her answer. "Since I fell head over heels for a girl who cries at love letters and runs barefoot down the hall to kiss me."

You smiled and leaned in, your nose brushing hers, your voice a whisper. "I just really needed to see you."

Ellie kissed you slow and gently. "I’m always right here," she said. "I will always be right here for you."

You ended up falling asleep there, curled together on the couch, her hand still laced in yours, feeling her soft heartbeat against your own.

YOU WOKE UP to the smell of cinnamon.

Still groggy, you stretched a little, blinking against the early light slipping through Ellie’s curtains. You reached out instinctively — but her side of the couch was empty. Something gentle hummed through the apartment. Music, faint and crackly from the little record player in the corner. Something older — Nancy Sinatra, maybe. And cinnamon. Definitely cinnamon.

You sat up, your body heavy with sleep, but your chest felt lighter. You walked around the apartment barefoot, wearing only one of her shirts, the hem brushing your thighs.

Ellie was in the kitchen.

Hair messy, tied back in a low bun. Oversized hoodie. Socks half on, half falling down. She had flour on her face — actual flour — and was bent over the stove, very seriously flipping something in a pan.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and smiled. "I feel like I’m interrupting something private here."

Ellie jumped and turned — her entire face lighting up when she saw you.

"Babe," she said, like she’d been waiting for you all morning. "I was trying to let you sleep. Did I wake you?"

"You made your whole apartment smell like cinnamon. I’d wake up even in a coma."

She grinned and held up the pan like a trophy. "Cinnamon pancakes. I found this recipe online — well, Jesse texted it to me. He said it’s foolproof, so if they’re bad, we blame him."

You laughed, walking toward her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind as she focused on pouring syrup into a tiny saucepan. She leaned back into your chest instinctively, humming under her breath. You swayed with her for a moment.

"You’re ridiculous," you mumbled into her hoodie.

She turned her head slightly, brushing her nose against your temple. "Nah. You just had a shitty day yesterday. And I hate it when you look sad."

You pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "So you decided pancakes would cure me?"

"Did it work?"

You thought about it — how your chest felt less tight, how the anxious hum in your bones had quieted, and how safe she made you feel just by standing there, solid and sleepy in her kitchen, making you breakfast. "It’s definitely helping."

After pancakes (which were — surprisingly — very good, despite Ellie nearly burning the first one and dramatically mourning it like it was a fallen soldier), she told you the plan for the day: "There’s no plan."

You blinked at her from across the table, licking syrup off your thumb. "No plan?"

"Nope. None." She leaned back in her chair, arms behind her head, looking pleased. "You’re not lifting a finger today. Not a single one. I’m your butler. Your chauffeur. Your loyal steed."

You snorted. "My what?"

"I take my girlfriend duties very seriously."

She really meant it, too. She ran you a bath with the stupidly fancy bubble stuff she’d teased you about the week before but then bought anyway. She showered you with compliments and let you pick a movie, not complaining even if it was one she’d already seen.

After dinner, she was inside the kitchen again, preparing a french dessert you mentioned once and she just happened to have every single ingredient. So here you were, smiling at the dedication and effort Ellie put into making you happy. She turned, and caught you staring.

"What?" She asked, suspicious.

"Nothing." You replied, trying not to smile.

"No, no. I know that look. That’s the I’m-about-to-roast-you look."

You tilted your head. "I’m not—"

"You’re about to say something mean and deeply offensive. I can feel it."

"I was just thinking about how you hold a spatula like it’s a weapon. Like you’re about to interrogate it." You shrugged innocently.

She gasped, pointing you with the utensil. "You take that back. I cook with precision."

"You cook like someone who’s holding the last weapon in a boss fight."

Ellie narrowed her eyes and closed the distance between you in three quick steps. "You wanna say that again, sweetheart?"

You smirked. "Or what, you gonna arrest me with the spatula?"

She blinked once. Then, wordlessly, she grabbed you—hands at your waist, firm and sudden—and hoisted you off the stool like you weighed absolutely nothing.

"El—!" you yelped, laughing, squirming as she walked you the three steps to the counter.

"Say it again," she said, deadly serious, "and I swear I’ll put you in the sink."

You were still giggling when she deposited you on top of the kitchen counter, your legs dangling and hoodie riding up your thighs. She stepped between your knees, arms on either side of you. Your laughter softened into breathless smiles. Your cheeks hurt. Her eyes were so green up close, you could almost count every single freckle that embelished her visage.

"Not gonna lie," you murmured, "this is kinda hot."

Ellie raised a brow. "Me threatening you with domestic violence is hot?"

"Only when it ends like this."

She laughed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. "You’re ridiculous," she whispered.

"You love it."

"Unfortunately, I do."

You kissed her, soft and lazy, her hands resting gently on your thighs now. When you pulled back, you ran your fingers over her jaw. "Thanks for today. For everything."

She shrugged, but her ears were already red. "Didn’t do that much."

"You spoiled me. You’re still spoiling me."

"Yeah, well, you deserve it."

You touched the tip of her nose with your finger. "You’re a sap."

She grinned. "And you’re lucky."

"I am," you whispered. "I really, really am."

The moment stretched, the kind of moment you wanted to live in forever. And then, "okay, but seriously,” you added, poking her side. "I’m never gonna forget the way you flipped that first pancake this morning. It flew."

She groaned and buried her face in your neck. "Don’t. Don’t bring that up. That pancake died tragically."

"It looked like a UFO. I thought it was gonna hit the ceiling—"

"You are banned. Banned from my kitchen."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, letting her hold you there, tucked against the warm crook of her neck, swaying slightly to the background hum of the record player. Her fingers tapped along your thigh to the beat, and for a while, you just breathed her in.

And when you finally curled up with her on the couch, full of tea and warm and soft all over, you rested your head on her shoulder and whispered, "You really went all out."

Ellie kissed the top of your head. "You’re allowed to have bad days," she said quietly. "But I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure the day after feels better. Always."

You looked up at her, your heart so full it ached. "Ellie."

"Hm?"

"You’re gonna make me cry again."

She smiled, leaned in, and kissed you softly. "Yeah, but like… the good kind this time."

You nodded, curling closer, letting the world outside dissolve. Wrapped in her arms, safe and held and spoiled absolutely rotten, you finally let yourself believe it — that no matter how rough things got out there, this would always be your soft place to land. You could definitely get used to this.

perm taglist !

@valeisaslut @firefly-ace @sevslover @twopeoplee @mayfldss @elliesfavtoy @usuck @avalovesmus1c @samcvrpenters @mars4hellokitty @prettyinpink69 @yashirawr @furtherrawayy @maximumdreamlandcoffee @elliesfavgirlfriend @abcline006 @marieeeluvsyou @smaugayra @eriiwaiii2 @d1psht @creativedespaitr @leaaavesss @yasmilks @piastorys @nemesyaaa @elliewilliamskisser2000 @mascspleasegetmepregnant @oatmatchalatte @leeidk87

neighbor!ellie taglist !

@alinerr @liztreez @wwefan2002

[dramaticals]

DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition

hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)

word count: 372,978

chapters: 67/70

the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)

word count: 503,570

chapters: 45/45

draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.

word count: 199,548

chapters: 36/36

the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.

word count: 289,780

chapters: 33/33

this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.

word count: 118,892 & 178,268

chapters: 31/31 & 39/39

rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).

word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876

chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41

[coffee-and-geto]

HOW CAN I LOVE WHEN I’M AFRAID TO FALL? - SATORU GOJO

“I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.”

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEO’s girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, reader’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book ‘un printemps pour te succomber’ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues.

wc: 10,154

“Can I taste the frosting?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Of course, angel.” You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. “So? How is it?”

“It’s so good!” she exclaims, and you chuckle.

“I’m glad you like it.” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and I’ll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as it’s ready, okay?”

Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an “O”. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.

Why does it have to be so hard?

Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said ‘single mom’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘baking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to you’? But what hurts more — this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?

The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!” your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat the cake!”

With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.

Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: “What if she blames you later for not having a father?”, “What if she thinks you’re a bad mom?”, “Do her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?”

These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe it’s more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.

Probably the second option.

“WHERE IS MY SON?!”

A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. “Who’s yelling like that?” you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I heard it’s the new general manager…”

Your frown deepens. “Is that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?” To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.

Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. “Oh God, you’re the one in charge of that? Good luck. It’s to be delivered to the new director.”

A sigh escapes your lips.

For a start to the workweek, it seems you’re about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.

As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as it’s generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the company’s CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the boss’s office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.

So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?

In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the women’s restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.

Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.

Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?

“SATORU!”

His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, “Cover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!” And his tall, slender body disappears into the women’s restroom.

More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered — though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.

His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. “Did you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,” he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.

You shake your head robotically. “No… I—”

“Never mind,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand — as if your answer is irrelevant and he’s heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Who are you, anyway?”

“An employee, sir.” You gesture to the stack of documents that’s beginning to make its weight known in your arms. “I was asked to drop this off in your office.” The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.

“The report? Ah yes, of course.” You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am?”

“The new general manager, I guess?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. “We heard you on every floor.” You can’t help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.

He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “You’re right. It’s because of my son.”

His son?

You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. “My son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. “I apologize in advance. He’s going to be a real handful.”

“I understand. I think we’ll manage to put up with him,” you add with a smile.

In the end, this new boss doesn’t seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.

“Are you sick?” the director inquires.

“A little,” you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay home.”

“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “Well, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.”

You don’t hesitate to leave the boss’s office and quietly step into the women’s restroom. “Is… someone here?” you murmur in a hoarse voice.

The creaking of a door answers you, and the general manager’s son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”

The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. “N-No, I’m fine. You’re the new CEO, right?”

“Satoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.” He winks, a reminder that he’s quite the flirt.

You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.

“Pretty name,” Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. “Phew! That was a close one! Thanks again!” He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Damn it, you’re so annoying with this!”

“There’s no point in moving every few months, I’m going to find you.”

“For fuck’s sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear I’ll help you raise Hinata this time.”

“I made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know you’re reading them!”

You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the “block this contact” button on your phone. It’s the fourth time this month. He’s been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.

You know he’s in debt — one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.

So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, he’s reaching out to you — the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.

“Mama? You okay?”

Your daughter’s concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV haven’t had the desired effect — they’re not distracting her from the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, it’s showing enough for people to notice?

“I’m fine, angel,” you reassure her with a perfect smile — perfectly fake, because that’s something you’ve learned to anchor over time.

You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. “If you say so…” Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.

The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than you…

“Little angel?” you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

And the three little words sound… unreal.

Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, “I love you too, Hina.”

3:00 PM.

In less than an hour, you’ll need to pick up Hinata from school.

Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun — a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about what’s happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.

The only change: now it’s you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesn’t seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, you’re tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEO’s door — it’s the closest. But no one answers.

No surprise, since the director’s son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?

You’re about to knock on the Director’s door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what you’re holding.

“H-Hello, sweetheart. How are… you?” he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.

“I’m fine. Here.” You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. “The next meeting—” But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.

“SATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND I’LL DISOWN YOU!” The boss’s voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. “YOU!” He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. “Still bothering our employees?” He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.

“That’s not true, father!” Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re chasing me while I’m just saying hello to my girlfriend?”

You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. “Your girlfriend? Since when—”

“I was going to tell you,” Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. “Here’s my new girlfriend.”

“Are you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?”

In the back of your mind, you note that he doesn’t seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.

“What? I’m telling the truth! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. “Y-Yes…”

What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.” He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.

Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. “I can explain everything.”

If his cerulean blue eyes hadn’t been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.

You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late to pick up your daughter.

“You’re in a rush?”

“I have to pick up my daughter before I’m late,” you reply curtly, “and look at the mess I’m in now!”

“I know, I know…” Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. “Maybe I can explain on the way? Where’s your car?” He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.

The question — however mundane — makes you blush with embarrassment. “I… take public transportation…” you mumble, pouting.

He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. “Excuse me? I don’t take public transportation.”

“Well, I do.” A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.

How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since he’s one of society’s privileged.

“Let’s take my car then.” He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. “What are you waiting for?”

“But— I— Are you out of your mind?” you burst out. “I’m not getting in that car! I’m supposed to pick up my daughter, and now I’m pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!” You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.

He bursts out laughing.

Cute.

“No chance. We’re going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car that’s way better than those buses that reek of sweat.” He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.

“I have an errand to run anyway,” you persist.

“And that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get in this car,” Satoru chuckles.

Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night — yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoru’s chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.

“My father bugs me every day to find a woman,” Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid him.”

“And why involve me?” you snap back.

“Well, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.” He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” A pause. “I just hope you’re not married, otherwise—”

“No, I— No.” You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? “And your father doesn’t seem to have recognized me since the other day,” you can’t help but point out.

“The mask.” Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He didn’t recognize you because of that. He’s always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.”

“But you recognized me.” You focus on the road’s scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I don’t want to keep pretending—”

“Please,” Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just until he and my family get off my back.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“How much do you want?” He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.

“What? No! I don’t want your money!” you protest as quickly as he did. “No, I…” And you groan, sinking into your seat.

Holy shit!

“What have I gotten myself into, seriously…” you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.

“Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do everything to make it just a minor detail… I’m only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work — if we want to avoid suspicion. He won’t suspect a thing, I swear.” He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.

Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?

Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. “It will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I won’t bother you any further.”

You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. “I need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice—”

“Come back. I’ll take you home,” Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.

What’s the point of refusing?

You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.

"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.

You return her embrace, heading towards Satoru’s car. “Did you have a good day?”

“So much fun! I made you a drawing!” She’s practically bouncing as you reach the car.

Noticing your daughter’s confused look, you clear your throat. “Uh… A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?” She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. “This is Gojo. My friend.”

“Hello, princess.” Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata,” she replies, her legs gently swinging.

“Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and tries to hide a smile.

On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.

You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you weren’t being a good mother. Again.

“That one!” Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie that’s twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.

Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albino’s watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hina’s shoulder. “Angel, I think it’s—”

“…Perfect,” Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughter’s tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. “Do you like it, little one?” he asks, looking down at her.

Hina nods energetically. “Yeah!”

“Then we’ll take it.” Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like… a wallet.

You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesn’t push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. “Gojo… No.”

“It’s Satoru to you, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. “And why not? It’s just a stuffed animal,” he scoffs. He takes Hinata’s hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.

“No, it’s not nothing to me,” you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.

Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he can’t continue as your daughter clings to Satoru’s leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. “You’re welcome, little one.” His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. “It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesn’t suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoru’s car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoru’s hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.

“Just in case,” he mouths silently.

Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, “I accept.”

“And no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, don’t move an inch, and—” You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.

To your great misfortune, Hinata’s preschool is on strike for a while — which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you can’t afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriend’s office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoru’s office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.

“Hey, hey!” You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face — just as the plan intended.

“Satoru…” you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.

“What do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.

As usual, he’s dressed in a luxurious suit — probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in — his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.

He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!

“Hinata’s school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if that’s not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor I’m doing for you…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I see you’re spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yours…”

“No problem at all,” Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. “Ready to go to the CEO’s office?” He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.

It’s your turn to smile in relief. “Thank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and I’ll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.” The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt — and for once, you don’t blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.

5:00 PM.

You’ve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didn’t recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.

“Come to the parking lot like last time.”

And that’s the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).

In the empty parking lot, only Satoru’s car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace — tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.

“Satoru, you don’t have to—”

“Hina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,” Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.

Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesn’t seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as you’re settled.

“So, this means you’re coming to my place,” he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, “and I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“No—”

“Mom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.” Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.

You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.

“By the way, I’m stopping by your place so you can pack. We’re invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.”

“WHAT?”

You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. “You look stunning,” Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.

With a flushed face, you turn your head. “Satoru…”

“What? Just because we’re pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” He pauses. “Well, actually, we do know each other a bit, don’t we? We’ve had dinner together.” He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.

You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the bride’s bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips — this is one thing you’ve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that — dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, it’s only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.

His father didn’t notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, it’s hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until he’s settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and you’re enjoying a life you’ve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?

A Satoru who’s too comfortable with you isn’t so bothersome given the time you’ve spent together lately — both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they haven’t asked for kisses yet, so—

A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.

The bride’s bouquet.

A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because… you’ve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it… But why you, who hadn’t asked for anything?

“Sweetheart?” Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if you’ve been a couple for years. “My father is watching us, and I think he’s expecting me to do something.”

You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:

“May I kiss you?”

Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.

So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you can’t help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend.” His warm breath ignites your body.

Has your heart exploded?

If not, why can’t you breathe?

“Awww… How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!”

An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoru’s.

“My dear aunt…” Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.

“You make a lovely couple,” Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.

“Oh, thank you.” You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoru’s hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.

“Take good care of her, you idiot,” the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoru’s head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.

“Well, at least we look convincing, right?” he adds.

“Yes…”

Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Don’t think he said it because he meant it or—

“By the way,” Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, “I meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.”

And you’re at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.

“WOW! Hinata, you’re so rich!”

“Is this your dad’s castle?”

Hinata takes Satoru’s hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. “It’s my daddy’s!” She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.

It’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of giving Hina.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.

“I’m glad she likes it,” he replies.

“I wasn’t talking about the party.”

He freezes and turns his head toward you. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never been married?” he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.

“That’s true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.” You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.

Maybe he won’t want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after this…

“You can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?” Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it’s completely natural for him, but there’s a tension in his touch. “I can take care of him and—”

You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment that’s urging you to say yes. “It’s okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know it’s going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lot—”

“Nuh-uh.” He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. “She’s already talked about it in my office.”

You open your eyes wide. “What…?”

“Hinata likes you much more than you think… You’ve suffered too much,” His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.

“Thank you,” you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. “We haven’t had the best birthdays recently, so I’m happy to see Hinata get what she wants.” Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. “So, thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?”

Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. “...A while ago.”

Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. “You’re such a strong woman… I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, that’s no problem for me.”

“What? No, Satoru, you’re joking…”

“I’m not joking,” he insists, his gaze diving into yours — and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.

With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, “We barely know each other, and—”

“Mama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!” Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.

“Yes, angel, we’re coming,” you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.

Why are his ears so red?

You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. “Geez…”

The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?

“Hinata? Satoru?” you call out as you walk through the hallways.

The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.

“Are you there?” you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.

A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.

You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you can’t escape it.

Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.

Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.

The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoru’s words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?

Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.

“Watch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,” Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the child’s mouth.

The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely don’t regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life you’ve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoru’s proposal, then? He’s the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.

But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl — his daughter, technically — next to a man who isn’t her father.

Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. “Can I help you?”

Your ex says your name. “Where is she?” he mimics asking as if he didn’t know.

“What do you want with her?”

“To talk to her. I have the right. And you’re with my daughter, just so you know.” He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.

“She’s not here; you can leave,” Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinata’s chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as he’s been harassing you with messages about it.

“Excuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and we’ll sort this out very quickly,” your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesn’t recognize him.

An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.

“She’s taking my daughter, so I’m taking her back! And it’s not a bastard like you who’s going to help her regain my rights!” your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. He’s about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.

Do you get déjà vu?

“‘Your daughter’?” Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. “She’s been sitting next to me for over an hour, I’ve been feeding her for over an hour, she’s been calling me by my name for over an hour, and you’re talking about ‘your daughter’? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?”

Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. “You little son of—”

“Sir, we ask that you leave the terrace; you’re disturbing our customers,” a security guard declares firmly. He’s accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.

You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you — having not realized you were there — and can only offer you an apologetic look. “Let’s go,” you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. “I’ll pay the bill and—”

“It’s already taken care of; we can go,” Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.

And it’s on the silent drive back that you realize something.

You’ve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.

“Look, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!” Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented,” you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinata’s room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. “Ready to go to sleep?”

“Yes, and I showed our drawing to mama,” Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.

“Oh yeah? Did mama like it?” Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.

“Mama loved it and thanks Daddy,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.

Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.

Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.

“For everything.” Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope he’ll let you speak, but no. “I didn’t mean to make a scene and—”

“And you think I’m going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasn’t touched by what you said about Hina?” you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. “Is Satoru shy?” you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you don’t see his expression.

“I love you.”

You blink, because you must have heard wrong. “Huh?”

“Marry me.” And he’s already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand… But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. “I want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.” Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, “Want my money? I’ll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? It’s already yours.” And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. “I love you, I love you… Please, marry me…”

“Satoru… You—” you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because it’s all moving too fast for you. “You… love me?” you manage to whisper.

He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. “I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.” He whispers your name like a divine invocation. “I’ve fallen in love with you more than just once.”

You don’t immediately respond, and that’s okay in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t share my feelings; I just want you to know that—” But he’s cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. “God… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Satoru,” you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.

Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.

With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile — finally back. “Nuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.”

“I want it, Satoru,” you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Alright… Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wife—” He places a finger on your lips. “Oh no, you’ll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.”

You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if he’s going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.

“If you knew how long I’ve dreamed of doing this…” Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Exactly how I would act with my wife—”

“And your father?” And he chuckles again.

“We don’t care about him.” He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. “Such humble underwear… Would you like me to buy you something more daring?” he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.

“Would you do that?” You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.

For the first time, you’re about to make love with someone.

“Hmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?” Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.

“Sweetheart, don’t—” he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. “Your hands feel so good…” He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.

“Answer my question…” you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.

“Babe, don’t tease…” Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. “F-fuck— Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerie— ah!” he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. “But also in those maternity clothes— oh god… C-can you really blame me?” He rolls his eyes and can’t help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.

You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, “So you’re a naughty boy, hmm?”

“I won’t last if you keep this up— hgnn…” he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. “G’nna cum, baby, don’t—”

You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.

“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.

“M-hmm… You taste so sweet…” He doesn’t let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. “I want you, Satoru…”

“I’m yours, princess.” He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that you’re completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.

“So wet for me… Did I do this to you just with my cock?” His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.

Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. “Satoru, it feels good…” you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. “Please don’t tease…”

“Not tease? Weren’t you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,” Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. “Can I?”

“Please…” You wince as you move your hips down for more. And that’s exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.

“You’re so fucking tight… and so wet,” he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. “I can already fuck you without making you cum first.” He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. “Is that what you want, love?”

You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. “That’s it…” He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.

“Don’t tease, Toru, I swear…” And he smirks.

“Toru?”

“Sorry, I—”

His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. “I want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, ’kay?” He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.

The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.

You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. “Ah! Toru… Jus’ like that…” Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoru’s dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. “Fuck… s’deep…”

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words — completely pussy drunk.)

And that’s exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. “Shhh… You don’t want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, baby…” He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.

Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you haven’t truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasn’t just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you — but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each other— physically and emotionally.

One of Satoru’s hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.

“P-please, Toru, please, I’m already close,” you whimper against your trembling palm — a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt — the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.

“Cum on my cock, baby, cover it,” he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. “Want me to fill you up?” And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. “Anything for you, my beautiful girl.” His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.

Satoru’s own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses he’s placing down your jaw. “T-Toru, Toru, cumming!” you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.

He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Oh god… S-Squeezing me while I’m cumming too…” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest. 

Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

“How was it? Did I make you feel good?” Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.

The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. “Are you going to leave, after this?”

His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. “No, baby, of course not… I won’t, I swear on my life I won’t leave you… I’m not him. I’m the one who hopes you won’t leave…” he whispers hurriedly. “Don’t think about that. I’ll always be here, for you and for Hina…”

You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. “Save your tears for later, sweetheart.”

“Why?” You clear your throat.

He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “Did I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but what’s the link?”

“Don’t you understand?” he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand in time.”

“I see. So it was an unexpected encounter.” Gojo’s father nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a fool…”

Satoru chokes on a piece of meat he’s chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.

Yet, there’s a certain paternal camaraderie between them — a father-son relationship, if you will.

“That’s not true,” Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.

“Yes, like you’re not a womanizer,” his father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“It was so you’d leave me alone,” with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his father’s incredulous expression, “but sweetheart came into my life,” he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.

“I hope you manage to put up with him until… well, until you decide to marry — if that’s what you choose,” his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.

“Satoru isn’t a bad person, you know,” you start gently. “He is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,” Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, “but he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.”

“I must admit,” he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.

Satoru casually says your name, “Yeah, yeah… By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?”

You freeze, while Satoru’s father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. “Who?”

And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.

The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.

“He’s beautiful…” Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes — his exact likeness. “Thank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank you…” His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.

He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.

a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! 🤭 hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 13: February 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, Me trying to write therapy sessions, Oscar being a lost little duckling, Lando being a feral street cat, Brocedes in the year 2024? Sebastian Vettel making a guest appearance just for myself.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Oscar Piastri

Max: You free tonight?

Oscar: uh I think so? Why?

Max: come to dinner.

Oscar: …okay? Where?

Max: Our place. 7pm. We’re already feeding Lando. And Belle adopted you.

Oscar: I’m honored? I think?

Max: Good. Bring your appetite. And maybe patience.

Max:  Lando’s already being dramatic about it.

Oscar: What’s new?

Max: Exactly. See you at 7.

***

Oscar showed up at Max and Belle’s apartment at 7:02 p.m., clutching a bottle of wine he wasn't sure they'd need and trying not to look like he was afraid.

The door opened before he could even knock properly.

Max stood there, expression dry. "Two minutes late. Tragic."

Oscar grinned sheepishly. "Traffic?"

Max just shook his head, stepping aside to let him in.

The second he entered, Oscar spotted Lando sprawled on the couch, dramatically claiming all the cushions like some sort of feral housecat.

One of the actual cats was glaring at him from the armrest.

Belle appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, smiling when she saw Oscar. "Hey, you made it."

Oscar relaxed immediately. "Wouldn’t miss it."

"You’re brave," Belle teased, nodding toward Lando. "He’s been sulking for half an hour."

"I’m not sulking!" Lando yelped from the couch. "I’m... emotionally preparing!"

"For what?" Oscar asked, genuinely curious.

He looked up and immediately pointed accusingly.

"Traitor!" Lando said dramatically. "You got adopted before me!"

Oscar grinned and dropped into the seat across from him. "Not my fault you’re unadoptable."

Max, passing by with a plate of food, muttered under his breath, "Natural selection."

Belle rolled her eyes fondly and started setting plates on the table.

Oscar stood up to help without even thinking about it — grabbing forks, glasses, anything she pointed at — and Lando immediately protested.

"Hey! No stealing points! That’s cheating!"

Oscar grinned. "Skill issue, mate."

"You are SUCH a teacher's pet," Lando groaned dramatically, as he came to help as well. 

Max dropped down into a chair at the table with a smirk. "You're both insufferable."

Belle just smiled, utterly unbothered, moving around the kitchen like this chaos was completely normal.

Oscar, trailing after her as they finished getting everything ready, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Hey, uh," he said under his breath. "Quick question."

Belle turned, eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, feeling about twelve years old. "Heard you freelance now? Like, design stuff?"

Belle nodded. "Architecture and interiors. Why?"

Oscar winced. "Hypothetically... if someone's apartment was a complete catastrophe... and that someone’s girlfriend was visiting Monaco in two weeks... could I, uh... hire you? Like, officially?"

Belle blinked, then smiled — warm and kind. "Oscar."

"I’ll pay!" he blurted out. "Or like... buy you coffee. Or cat toys."

Belle laughed, soft and musical.

 "You don’t have to pay me," she said. "I’ll help you."

Oscar sagged in relief. 

Belle just shook her head, grabbing the last plate and nudging Oscar toward the table. "Sit. Eat. We’ll save your apartment later."

Oscar smiled, warm and easy.

This — this ridiculous, chaotic little world — It felt like home already.

***

When Belle showed up at his apartment, Oscar knew he was in trouble.

She stepped inside with a tote bag slung over her shoulder — full of measuring tape, a notebook, a fabric swatch or two — and immediately gave the whole place a slow, assessing once-over.

Oscar stood awkwardly in the middle of the mess, like a defendant waiting for sentencing.

Belle didn’t say anything at first. She just exhaled, long and low, and shook her head fondly.

"We have work to do," she said, setting her bag down with finality.

Oscar smiled, a little helplessly. "I know."

And then she took over — completely.

Belle moved through the apartment like a general, gentle but utterly in control. She measured walls, vetoed half the sad furniture he tried to keep, drew rough sketches of new layouts.

"No," she said calmly when he pointed at a sad, lumpy chair. "That’s not a chair. That’s a health hazard."

"But it’s vintage—" Oscar tried.

"It’s a crime," Belle corrected, utterly unfazed.

Oscar found himself trailing after her, nodding obediently as she rattled off notes: "We’ll need a new rug. A real lamp. You’re getting curtains, Oscar, not just sticking paper over the windows like a college student."

It should have been overwhelming. But Belle made it easy — light, funny, somehow never making him feel stupid for needing the help.

And somewhere in the middle of hauling a sad, broken coffee table toward the door, Oscar realized:

She’s so nice.

Not the fake kind of nice — not the "I’m being polite because I have to" nice. The real kind. The kind you didn’t earn — the kind she just gave, freely and without asking anything back.

It hit him harder than he expected.

And for the life of him, Oscar couldn’t understand — How could her brothers not see it?

Later, while they sat on the floor eating sandwiches she had packed ("I didn’t trust your fridge," Belle had said, deadpan), Oscar glanced over at her.

She was perched against the wall, hair falling into her face, sketching something in the notebook balanced on her knees.

"Can I ask you something?" he said before he could second-guess it.

Belle looked up, curious. "Of course."

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, voice low. "You don’t have to. I’m not your responsibility."

Belle smiled — small and real.

"When I moved to Paris," she said, "for university, I didn’t know anyone. I was eighteen. Scared. Completely overwhelmed."

Oscar stayed quiet, listening.

"I met my best friend Emilie my second week at Sorbonne," Belle continued. "She saw me drop all my books in the metro. Helped me pick them up. And then — without even asking — she took me under her wing." Belle’s voice softened, threading with something warm. "She showed me the little things. How to find the good groceries. Where to get a real coffee. Which bus routes were safe late at night."

She smiled faintly. "She saved me, in a way. Made Paris feel like home."

Oscar felt something ache in his chest.

"And when I asked her why," Belle said, looking back down at her notebook, "Emilie said: 'Because someone should.'"

Oscar swallowed hard.

"And now," Belle added, glancing up at him, "I guess... I just think everyone deserves that. Especially people like you."

Oscar laughed, soft and stunned. "What, hopeless cases?"

Belle’s smile widened. "No. Good ones."

Oscar looked at her — really looked at her — sitting cross-legged on his floor, sleeves pushed up, caramel hair catching the light from the window.

He thought about how easy it would be for her to be selfish. How the world hadn’t exactly been kind to her, but she still chose to be kind anyway.

"Thanks, Belle," he said quietly.

She just smiled, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like giving kindness was as natural as breathing.

And Oscar realized — maybe it was, for people like her.

***

Nico Rosberg liked the quiet of the stables just outside Monaco.

It was one of the few places in Monaco where people didn’t care who he was — just another dad holding juice boxes and brushing mud off boots.

The stables had become something of a second home on weekends in the off-season. 

His daughters loved their riding lessons — loved the ponies, the hay-scented air, the thrill of mastering the trot.

Nico leaned against the fence, arms crossed, sipping a coffee, watching them finish their class.

He smiled when he saw the younger one waving excitedly at someone near the paddock entrance.

There she was.

The woman both his daughters constantly talked about.

"Belle helps me with my pony!"

 "Belle makes the best braids!"

 "Belle said I did the best two-point position today!"

Isabelle Leclerc.

Nico had pieced it together after the second or third lesson — the soft-spoken young woman who occasionally helped at the stables wasn’t just any Monaco local.

She was Charles Leclerc’s sister.

Though you wouldn’t know it from her.

No airs. No attitude.

Just patience, steady encouragement, and a laugh that made the kids beam with pride when she said they did something well.

Today, she knelt beside his youngest daughter, adjusting the stirrup leathers with careful hands, chatting easily as the girl nodded along solemnly.

Nico smiled to himself.

He liked her — genuinely liked her.

There was a calmness to her he rarely saw.

He was about to wave when he caught movement from the corner of his eye — someone slipping through the stable gates with practiced ease.

Max Verstappen.

Not in race gear.

Not in Red Bull blue.

Just jeans and a hoodie, baseball cap covering his messy hair.

Nico blinked.

Max? Here?

He looked... easy. Comfortable.

Especially when Isabelle turned, spotted him, and lit up with a smile that could have powered half of Monaco.

Max’s whole face changed at the sight of her. Softened. Brightened.

He walked straight to her, not hesitating, crouching to say something that made her laugh — that small, quiet laugh Nico had seen his daughters light up over.

Max reached out, brushed a stray piece of hay from her hair like it was instinct.

Nico straightened slowly against the fence, eyebrows raising.

Oh.

Oh.

He watched for a moment longer, unnoticed.

Watched how Max’s hand lingered at the small of Isabelle’s back.

Watched how easily she leaned into him, unthinking.

Not new.

Not casual.

Something steady.

One of Nico’s daughters came running up, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Papa! Belle said I can ride Daisy next week!"

"That’s wonderful,," Nico said, ruffling her hair. "Did you say thank you?"

"Yes!" she beamed. 

He gave her a kiss on the forehead, sent her back toward the stables, and took a slow sip of his coffee, considering.

Later, as Max drifted closer — probably spotting him now that the initial magnet pull toward Isabelle had worn off — Nico met him with a knowing smile.

"Max," Nico said lightly. "Didn’t know you were into ponies."

Max shrugged, the barest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’m into her."

Nico chuckled under his breath. "Figured."

Max shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes never leaving Isabelle, who was now kneeling to show a little girl how to buckle a bridle properly.

"My daughters adore her," Nico said after a beat. "Apparently ‘Belle’ is the best teacher they’ve ever had."

Max smiled then — properly, fully — something so rare and genuine that Nico almost did a double take.

"Yeah," Max said, voice low. "They’re not wrong."

They stood there for a moment, two men who had seen the brutal side of fame and pressure, silently agreeing that this — this quiet, real thing — was worth a hell of a lot more.

"Charles know?" Nico asked eventually, curious but gentle.

Max huffed a dry laugh. "No."

Nico winced. "Oof."

Max shrugged, unbothered. "Doesn’t matter. She’s mine."

There was no arrogance in the words.

Just certainty.

Steel wrapped in something terrifyingly soft.

Nico smiled slightly. "Good. Don’t lose that."

"I won’t," Max said simply.

Isabelle looked up then, spotting them across the arena.

She gave a small wave, smiling — easy and bright, like the sun slipping through the clouds.

Later, Nico watched Max head back toward the barn, where Isabelle was helping the younger kids put away their helmets, her hair half-falling out of her braid, her cheeks pink with the cool air.

Max didn’t even look at anyone else.

Max was watching Isabelle the way Nico watched Vivian — with a kind of unconscious gravity, like the rest of the world had blurred out and there was only her left.

And Isabelle — She looked up, caught Max’s eye, and smiled again — soft, sure, like she knew exactly where he’d always end up.

Nico shook his head fondly and muttered under his breath, "The paddock is not ready for this."

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Oscar Piastri

Oscar: Hi Oscar:  sorry to bug you again Oscar:  But can i ask for another favor?

Isabelle: Hi Oscar Isabelle: you’re never bugging me Isabelle: what’s up?

Oscar: Do you have any good restaurant recommendations for Valentine’s day? like... somewhere actually nice but not stupidly touristy?

Isabelle: You’re planning a Valentine’s dinner?

Oscar: Yeah.  First one in Monaco… I want it to be good

Isabelle: That’s really sweet. 

Oscar: I’ve got a short list already. I just need your opinion because Lando’s advice was (quoting here) “idk just get pasta or something, she’ll live”

Isabelle: oh my god

Oscar: I know

Isabelle: Send me your list.  I’ll help you pick. 

Oscar: Maison Bleue, Le Petit Bar or maybe that little italian place near the flower market?

Isabelle: All good choices!! Isabelle: I would lean Maison Bleue Isabelle: It’s a little quieter, more romantic

Oscar: Perfect, thank you!! Also already got her a necklace so I’m like 90% prepared, only panicking a little bit. 

Isabelle: You’re more prepared than 99% of people I know (cough my brothers cough)

Oscar: …Do they not plan?

Isabelle: They just expect me to plan everything.  Birthdays, anniversaries,  mother’s day,�� sometimes their friends' birthdays too. 

Oscar: ... that’s awful. 

Isabelle: It’s nice that you asked and that you already had ideas. I am not used to that. 

Oscar: Of course? You’re helping me.  It’s the least I can do to be a human about it. 

Isabelle: You’re a very good human, Oscar

Oscar: You’re a very good human, too, Belle. 

****

It started with a text.

Arthur: Isabelle HELP I forgot to book anything for valentine’s day what do i do

Then Lorenzo chimed in.

Lorenzo: Hey, can you find a florist for me? Everything’s sold out.

And then Charles, predictably, a minute later.

Charles:Can you order something for Alex? I don’t know what she likes.

Isabelle stared at the group chat, feeling that familiar, sick tightening in her stomach.

 They just assumed she would fix it — like she always did.

No hello, no how are you, no are you busy.

Just Isabelle, save us.

She set the phone down on the counter carefully, like it might explode.

Max was leaning against the stove, stirring something in a pot. He looked up when he saw her face.

"What's wrong?"

Isabelle opened her mouth. Closed it again.

And then, quietly: "They want me to fix Valentine’s Day for them."

Max didn’t say anything for a second. Just studied her, like he already knew she was about to go to war with herself.

"You don’t have to," he said softly.

"But if I don’t—" she started, and stopped, clenching her hands into fists. "If I don’t, they’ll be upset. Or disappointed. Or say I’m selfish."

Max set the spoon down carefully, wiped his hands on a towel, and crossed the kitchen to her.

He took her face in his hands, gentle but firm.

"Belle," he said, voice steady. "You are not responsible for their girlfriends' happiness."

Tears pricked behind her eyes. She hated how easily they came now, how raw she always felt lately.

But Max didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush her.

"You deserve to have a Valentine’s Day too," he said. "You deserve to put yourself first."

Isabelle nodded, shaky, terrified — but somehow, deep down, she knew he was right.

She picked up her phone with trembling fingers and, for once, instead of making excuses or softening the blow, she just… said the truth.

Isabelle: I’m sorry, but I’m not available to help this time. Good luck.

She hit send before she could overthink it, before she could drown in the guilt.

There was a long, aching silence.

Then Arthur's message popped up.

Arthur: seriously? wow. okay then.

And another from Charles.

Charles: Nice. Thanks for nothing.

And Lorenzo, icing on the cake.

Lorenzo:Guess we know who we can count on.

The shame hit her hard and fast, brutal in a way only family could manage.

She set the phone down again and braced her hands against the counter, breathing hard, fighting not to crumple.

Max didn’t say I told you so.

He didn’t say they’re assholes, even though she could see it in his eyes.

He just moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.

"You did the right thing," he murmured against her skin. "I’m proud of you."

Isabelle choked on a laugh that was half sob, half relief.

"But they’re mad."

"So let them be mad," Max said. "You’re not their secretary. You’re not responsible for their poor planning."

She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest, breathing him in. Steady. Solid. Hers.

"It hurts," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "But hurting doesn’t mean you did the wrong thing. Sometimes it just means you’re finally doing the right thing."

He rubbed her back in slow circles, patient and sure.

"You’re allowed to choose yourself," Max said. "Every time."

And Isabelle, standing there in their kitchen, wrapped in his arms, knew: This was what real love looked like.

Not demands.

Not expectations.

Not conditional approval.

Just acceptance.

Just safety.

Just Max.

***

Team Redline Stream – Transcript

Stream starts, usual chatter as the guys set up for the race.

Luke: “Alright, so Valentine’s Day is in two days. Anyone got plans?”

Gianni Vecchio: “Uh—”

Chris Lulham: “Define ‘plans.’”

Gianni: “I mean… I’ll figure something out.”

Luke: “That means no one has done anything.”

Max: already annoyed “Useless. All of you.”

Chris: “Oh, and you have plans then?”

Max: “Of course. What kind of question is that? I love my girlfriend.”

Twitch chat:

   •   here we go again

   •   max “i love my girlfriend” verstappen strikes 

   •   the way this man is always 10 steps ahead

   •   someone check on the team redline WAGs

Gianni: groaning “Okay, yeah, we get it, you’re in love.”

Max: “No, because seriously—why do so many guys just assume their girlfriend or wife or mother or sister will handle everything? How is that cute? It’s embarrassing.”

Gianni: laughs “Tell us how you really feel.”

Max: “I will. Because it’s not just Valentine’s Day. It’s all the time. Birthdays, holidays, family events—who does all the planning? Who buys the gifts? Who remembers every single thing? The women. And the men just show up, say ‘Oh nice,’ and then act like they had anything to do with it.”

Chris: “Alright, I feel personally attacked.”

Max: “Good. Do something about it.”

Twitch chat:

   •   he’s SO MAD HELP

   •   he’s right and he should say it

   •   max verstappen, feminist king??

   •   every girlfriend watching this is nodding

Gianni: whistles “This is… a lot of feelings.”

Max: not done yet “No, because I’ve seen it firsthand, and it pisses me off. You know how many times I’ve watched someone handle everything for the people in their life and not even get a thank you? Not even acknowledged? Like it’s just expected? They do it because they care, but no one ever stops to think, ‘Oh, maybe they’d like to feel appreciated too.’” And if they for once don’t do it, the passive aggressiveness is through the roof, because they take it for fucking granted! It’s actually pathetic. Like, you are an adult, but you can’t book a damn dinner reservation? You need your sister to do that for you?!

Gianni: “Oh, this is personal-personal.”

Max: “Of course it’s personal! I see it happen to people I care about all the time. They put in so much effort and get nothing back. Their family forgets things that matter to them, just assumes they’ll be fine with it. Do you know how awful that is? To love people who don’t even notice when you’re hurting?”

Twitch chat:

   •   nah bc this just got too real

   •   someone in max’s life is NOT getting enough love and he’s fighting for their life rn

   •   blinking twice for the mystery girlfriend rn

   •   the way this man is not even being subtle anymore

Chris: nervous laughter “Uh… yeah, that sucks.”

Max: flatly “Yeah. It does.”

Gianni: “I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Max: “You should.”

Luke: “So… are you gonna tell us what you planned?”

Max: “No.”

Gianni: “So you’re out here preaching about effort but won’t give us ideas?”

Max: “Correct.”

Chris: “You’re actually evil.”

Max: smirking “Maybe.”

Race starts. Max wins, because of course he does.

Twitch chat:

   •   he went on a 10-minute rant then destroyed everyone on track. classic

   •   someone tell the mystery gf that max has a RING READY bc there’s no way he doesn’t

   •   max: “i love my gf and i hate men who do nothing”

   •   whoever he’s talking about, i hope they know he would actually burn the world down for them

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1GossipQueen: Max Verstappen just went on a full-on TED Talk during the Team Redline stream about how men need to step up and actually plan things for the women in their lives. I have NEVER seen him this passionate about anything that isn’t racing.

@/LandoStan_4: Nah, because the way he said, “It’s not even just about Valentine’s Day or girlfriends or wives, it’s always the women in families doing all the planning and never getting a thank you,” like he had a PERSONAL vendetta.

@/softverstappen: Who hurt you, Max??

@/F1memes_daily: Max Verstappen when he thinks about men who make their wives and girlfriends or mothers or sisters plan every holiday, birthday, anniversary, and social event: [insert exploding volcano meme]

@/GridTea: I swear he was holding back from name-dropping someone specific. The frustration was too real.

@/ChaosLeclerc: The way he said, “You are an adult, but you can’t book a dinner reservation?” sir who are you calling out.

@/TireDeg_33: I’m telling you, his mysterious girlfriend is fighting for her LIFE against the invisible burden of being the only responsible one in her family.

@/AloNorrisFan: The man really said, “Bare minimum behavior is NOT cute,” and you know what? He’s so right.

@/DR3Honeybadger: Max Verstappen being the voice of reason for women everywhere was not on my 2024 bingo card.

@/F1_WAGwatch: We all joke about ‘wife guy’ Max, but this just confirmed it. He’s SO in love and he’s SO annoyed on her behalf.

@/PitLaneDrama: This was NOT a general take. This was deeply personal. Whoever she is, she’s got this man READY TO FIGHT.

@/MaxFanClub: Honestly, this is the kind of energy we need from men. He called out half the grid without even naming names.

@/RedBullBesties: Lmao Max really said, “Bare minimum? Embarrassing. Do better.”

@/UndercutStrategy: His girlfriend better be watching this like [insert smug cat meme] because she’s got the reigning world champion out here advocating for her rights.

@/McLarenChaos: I need to know what triggered this. Did someone in his friend group forget a birthday? Did he overhear some teammate say “my girl will plan it” and see red??

@/F1DetectiveAgency: There’s a bigger mystery here… who IS she, and why does Max Verstappen love her so much that he’s out here calling out society???

@/FormulaLover: Max really said, “Love is about effort,” and I’m gonna need the men on this app to take notes.

@/DR3Always: He was talking to someone SPECIFIC. You can’t tell me this was just a general rant. He had receipts.

@/VerstappenSimp33: Max Verstappen, voice of the people. Advocate for women everywhere. A true feminist icon.

@/F1Detectives: There’s something SO funny about Max Verstappen, of all people, being the one to passionately call out the mental load women carry in relationships.

@/RedBullF1Fan: I’ve never seen a man so aggressively pro-Valentine’s Day.

@/SassyTauri: Max out here unionizing girlfriends.

@/F1WAGWatch: This man is SO IN LOVE. He literally said “She deserves effort” with his whole chest.

@/TireDegGOAT: Imagine being his girlfriend watching this like “Yes, my man, drag them.”

@/Undercut_Stan: Petition for Max to start a relationship advice podcast.

@/RedBullGirlies:Max Verstappen: F1 World Champion, Cat Dad, and now the internet’s unexpected Feminist Icon.

@/PaddockSpy: We don’t know who she is, but she’s got this man out here EDUCATING the masses.

***

Lily wasn’t exactly worried, flying into Monaco to visit Oscar for Valentine’s Day — but she was... curious.

 Very curious.

She loved Oscar — loved his quiet steadiness, his dry humor, the way he texted her good morning no matter what timezone he was in.

But decorating had never exactly been his strong suit.

When he said "I’m settling into the apartment pretty well!" over FaceTime a few weeks ago, she’d had... doubts.

Mild, loving doubts.

 Visions of mattress-on-the-floor bachelor chaos danced in her head.

So when she walked into his place for the first time — duffel bag still slung over her shoulder — she stopped dead just inside the door.

Blinking.

Staring.

The living room actually... looked good.

There was a real couch.

Matching throw pillows.

A soft rug that didn’t look like it came free with a video game console.

Curtains that actually matched the walls.

Fresh flowers on the kitchen island.

It was— it was warm. It looked like a home.

She turned slowly to Oscar, who was hovering nervously behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You did this," she said slowly. It wasn’t exactly a question. More like an accusation.

Oscar flushed. "Well... sort of."

She narrowed her eyes, stepping further inside. "Oscar. Be honest."

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "I had help."

Lily folded her arms. "Yeah, no kidding. This has woman’s touch written all over it."

Oscar winced. "Belle helped."

Lily blinked. “Belle?

"Isabelle Leclerc."Oscar answered, grinning now. "Charles’ sister."

Lily remembered her vaguely — a soft smile, a quiet presence tucked in the corners of the paddock. Kind, but easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

"Do I need to be worried?" Lily joked lightly, bumping his hip.

Oscar laughed so hard he nearly dropped her suitcase.

"Trust me," he said, still grinning, "you don’t. I think she adopted me. Like... another cat."

Lily snorted.

Oscar leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Besides, I don’t have three Drivers’ Championships and a fleet of cats. I’m not her type."

Lily stared at him. Oscar just raised one eyebrow. “Isabelle Leclerc and Max Verstappen?” Lily said, surprise colouring her voice. 

“Absolutely besotted with each other” Oscar said with a laugh. “And he’s good for her.”

"You like her," Lily said after a beat, softer now. "Not like that — but you like her."

Oscar nodded immediately.

 "Yeah. She’s..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s the kind of person who just helps, you know? Without making you feel like you owe her for it."

Lily smiled, stepping closer to loop her arms around his waist.

"Sounds like you lucked out," she said.

Oscar smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I definitely did."

Lily glanced around the apartment again — at the carefully chosen throw blankets, the tiny succulents on the windowsill, the framed print over the couch that actually matched the room instead of clashing violently. 

She thought of the quiet girl she'd seen once or twice, standing in the background while her brothers soaked up all the attention.

And Lily decided, very quietly, that she liked this Belle already.

A lot.

***

Monaco at night always looked beautiful.

All glitter and shine, like the whole city was pretending to be softer than it really was.

Lewis Hamilton knew better. He wasn’t dazzled by the surface anymore.

He was walking back from a late dinner with some old friends, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, keeping his head down, when the world exploded.

The screech of tires.

 A flash of headlights where they shouldn’t be.

 The sickening crunch of metal hitting metal.

Lewis whipped around just in time to see it happen.

A green Volvo — coming through the intersection on a green light — blindsided by a black SUV that barreled through the red without even slowing down.

The impact spun the green car sideways, sending it skidding up onto the curb, crumpled against a light post. The SUV swerved wildly, tires smoking, before lurching to a stop a few meters away.

Lewis didn’t think. He sprinted.

He reached the green car first, heart pounding hard enough to drown out the sounds of shouting passersby. The front end was mangled, the windshield spiderwebbed with cracks, airbags deployed.

He yanked the passenger side door open — the driver’s side was crushed in — and leaned across.

"Hey, hey—" he said urgently. "Stay with me. You okay?"

The girl inside was small, dazed, blood trickling from a cut above her eyebrow.

Blinking slowly, struggling to focus.

It took him a second to recognize her.

Isabelle Leclerc. Charles’s sister.

"Isabelle," he said more gently. "It’s Lewis. You’re okay. I’m right here."

She stared at him, glassy-eyed, her breathing shallow and fast.

Shock. Pure shock.

Lewis cursed under his breath, fumbling for his phone with one hand.

He called emergency services first, rattling off the location, demanding an ambulance. Then he crouched by the open door again, keeping his voice low and steady.

"You’re doing great, Isabelle. Just breathe. Help’s on the way."

Her hands were trembling badly. She tried to unbuckle herself and flinched at the movement.

"Don’t," Lewis said quickly. "Stay put. You could be hurt worse than you know. Just sit still for me, okay?"

She nodded, small and shaky, tears starting to well in her wide, shocked eyes.

Lewis took off his jacket and draped it over her lap to keep her warm, crouching to stay at her eye level.

"I’m gonna call your brother, yeah?" he said gently. "Charles’ll want to know—"

Isabelle’s hand shot out, grabbing his sleeve with surprising force.

"No," she said, her voice raw and cracking. "Don’t call him. Please."

Lewis blinked, caught off guard. "Isabelle—"

"Please," she said again, desperate now. "Don’t call him."

Lewis sat back on his heels, frowning slightly.

He didn’t argue — it was clear she wasn’t in any state to be pushed — but it planted a seed of confusion deep in his gut.

He knew families could be complicated.

 But something about the panic in her voice unsettled him.

Not embarrassment.

 Not stubbornness.

 Something deeper.

 Fear, maybe. Or exhaustion.

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Alright. I won’t call him."

Isabelle sagged back into the seat, closing her eyes tightly, breathing ragged.

The ambulance sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer.

Lewis stayed right there, hand braced lightly on her knee to let her know he wasn’t leaving.

Future teammate, he thought grimly, the words sitting heavy in his chest.

He’d just signed with Ferrari.

Was about to step into the same garage as Charles Leclerc next year.

 He knew Charles — or at least, he thought he did.

But now he wondered.

Because whatever was going on between Isabelle and her brother — whatever had made her so terrified at the idea of him finding out — it wasn’t simple.

It wasn’t small.

And Lewis, for the first time since agreeing to the move, felt the first real crack of doubt spider across the surface of everything he thought he knew.

***

Max’s phone rang late—too late for anything normal. Isabelle had been at Emilie’s for the evening, some kind of girls’ night that they always did just before Valentine’s day, involving ice cream and bad Rom-Coms. 

He was already half-asleep, curled up in bed with Sassy stretched across his legs, when the vibration jolted him awake. He frowned, blinking at the screen.

Belle ❤️

Something in his chest tightened.

"Schatje?" he answered, already sitting up. "What’s going on?"

There was a pause. A breath. Then, softly—too softly—Isabelle said, "Max."

He was awake instantly.

"What happened?"

"I'm okay," she said immediately. "I'm at the hospital."

Max was already moving, throwing off the blanket and reaching for his sweatpants. "What? Why?"

"There was an accident," she admitted. "A drunk driver ran a red light and hit my car."

His blood went cold. "Where?"

"Just outside the tunnel," she said. "Max, I'm okay."

"You’re in the hospital, Isabelle," he snapped, shoving his feet into sneakers. "That’s not okay."

"They just wanted to check me over," she reassured him. "No serious injuries, just some bruises. Probably because of the Volvo."

The one he insisted she get, because safety ratings mattered more than aesthetics, because he’d seen too many crashes to trust anything less.

"Which hospital?" he demanded.

"Max—"

"Which one, Isabelle?"

She sighed. "Princess Grace."

"I’m coming."

"You don’t have to—"

"I'm coming," he repeated, already grabbing his keys.

There was another pause, then, quieter: "Okay."

"Stay on the phone with me," he said as he got into the car, putting her on speaker. His hands were tight fists, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Tell me exactly what happened."

She exhaled. "I was driving back from dinner with Emilie. It was late, so the roads weren’t busy. I had a green light. Then, out of nowhere, this car just—slammed into the side of me. Hard."

Max’s grip tightened on his phone.

"The police said he was drunk. Almost twice the legal limit."

"Fuck," Max muttered.

"I didn’t even see him coming," she admitted. "One second everything was fine, the next… airbags, the car spinning, glass everywhere. Then people running over, trying to get the door open."

Max clenched his jaw, swallowing against the sheer terror clawing up his throat.

"Isabelle," he said, voice rough, "are you sure you're okay?"

"I promise, I am."

Max exhaled shakily, throwing the car into park. 

"I'm here," he told her. "Where are you?"

"Emergency department."

Two minutes later, he found her sitting on an exam bed, her coat draped over her lap, her hair slightly disheveled but otherwise—whole.

The moment her eyes met his, relief flooded her face.

Max didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. She was warm. Real. Breathing.

"I hate you driving alone at night," he muttered against her temple.

"I know," she whispered, holding onto him just as tightly.

"You're getting a driver."

"Max—"

"I'm serious."

She huffed a small laugh. "My Volvo might have saved my life tonight."

Max just tightened his grip, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Then I'm never letting you drive anything else."

Max didn’t let go for a long time. He just held her, breathing her in, grounding himself in the fact that she was here, in one piece, instead of—

He couldn’t even think about the alternative.

Isabelle eventually pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. “You really didn’t have to come all the way here.”

Max gave her a look. “Don’t say stupid things.”

He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, before pulling back properly to look her over. She looked tired—her makeup smudged from the night, her hair messy, a faint red mark along her collarbone where the seatbelt must have held her back.

Max pulled back only when a nurse cleared her throat nearby.

"We're keeping her overnight," she said, flipping through the chart. "Mild concussion. And her vitals were a little unstable when she came in — classic shock. Nothing serious, but better to monitor."

Max nodded tightly. "Good. That's good."

Isabelle groaned quietly. "Max, it’s not that bad—"

"Not arguing," he said firmly. "You're staying."

The nurse handed Isabelle two small white pills and a cup of water. Painkillers, she explained. Isabelle took them without complaint, sagging back against the pillows.

"She’ll be moved upstairs to a private room soon," the nurse said. "You can stay, if you’d like."

It didn’t take long before the painkillers hit her.

By the time they had put her in a private room, Belle was definitely enjoying the side effects of said pills. 

She turned her head slowly, blinking up at him like he’d just materialized out of thin air.

“Max,” she said dreamily, her voice soft and a little slurred.

He moved closer, crouching so he was at eye level. "I’m here, Schatje. How do you feel?"

She reached out clumsily, grabbing the front of his hoodie and tugging him closer.

“I love you so much,” she mumbled, her face squishing against his chest. “Like…stupid much.”

Max’s heart twisted painfully in his chest.

“I love you too,” he murmured, brushing her hair gently off her forehead. “You’re concussed, sweetheart. You need to rest.”

She didn’t listen.

Instead, she stared up at him with big, glassy eyes and announced, very seriously: “You’re the best boyfriend in the whole world. The best. Like, you should get an award. A giant trophy.”

Max bit back a laugh, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I don’t need a trophy, Belle. You’re enough.”

“No, no,” she insisted, poking his chest with one finger. “You don’t understand. You’re...you’re like, made of magic. You’re so good, Max. You’re…you’re my favorite,” she said solemnly, like it was the most important announcement in the world. "More than croissants. More than horses. More than the cats."

Max smiled, throat tight. "High praise."

She nodded, wide-eyed. "Don't tell Sassy."

"Your secret’s safe with me." He caught her hand gently, threading his fingers through hers. “You’re my favorite too.”

She blinked at him, still fighting to stay awake. “You’re so pretty, too. So pretty it’s rude. Like, how are you so pretty? It’s criminal.”

Max let out a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” she said solemnly.  Isabelle blinked up at him, utterly adoring. “You have such nice eyelashes. They’re so long. You know that? It’s not fair.”

“Schatje—”

“And you smell really good. Like soap and anger.”

Max bit back a laugh. “You’re off your head.”

She poked his chest with a finger. “You’re in love with me.”

He blinked. “That’s true, yes.”

She lit up. “I knew it! Good. Because I’m in love with you too. Like, so much. Stupid in love with you.”

Max melted and tried not to show it.

“I’m gonna marry you,” she added helpfully. “Someday.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Yeah? That the morphine talking?”

“No,” she mumbled. “That’s me talking. But the morphine is making it easier.”

Max took her hand and squeezed it. “Good. Because I’d marry you too. But first, we’re getting you better. No wedding until you can walk in a straight line.”

“I can walk in a straight line,” she said proudly. “It just moves sometimes.”

He laughed, unable to help it.

She just tugged him down until he was practically draped across her, clinging to him like he might vanish.

“Promise you won’t leave,” she whispered.

Max kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here the whole night.”

“You’re my safe place,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and meds. “You always make me feel safe.”

Max closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in.

He would’ve fought the whole world to keep her safe. He would’ve torn Monaco apart brick by brick if it meant putting her back together.

“You’re safe,” he whispered back. “I promise.”

Isabelle finally drifted into a light sleep, her fingers still tangled tightly in his hoodie. Max stayed right there, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed, letting her use him as a pillow if that’s what she needed.

***

Text Messages: Lewis Hamilton & Sebastian Vettel

Lewis: Mate. Lewis: You awake? Lewis: Need to ask you something.

Sebastian: Always awake for you. Sebastian: What's up?

Lewis: Ran into a situation in Monaco tonight. Lewis: A car crash. Drunk driver. Lewis: Girl got hit.

Sebastian: Christ. Sebastian: Is she okay???

Lewis: Yeah. Shaken up. Lewis: Shocky. Lewis: It was Isabelle Leclerc.

Sebastian: ...wait. Sebastian: Charles’s sister Isabelle??

Lewis: Yeah. Lewis: I stayed with her till the ambulance came.

Sebastian: Good man. Sebastian: How bad was it?

Lewis: Bad enough. Lewis: She was freezing. Could barely speak at first. Lewis: Stayed with her until paramedics got there. Lewis: She’ll need a proper checkup, but she was alive, breathing, conscious.

Sebastian: Poor girl. Sebastian: She’s always been... quiet, but good. Solid. Sebastian: Did Charles get there?

Lewis: No. Lewis:  I told her i’d call him. Lewis: She begged me not to. Lewis: full panic. Lewis: like—not just “i don’t want to worry him”— Lewis: like "please don’t tell him"Like panicked.

Sebastian: Shit.

Lewis: Seb. Lewis: What the hell is going on between her and Charles?

Sebastian: It's... complicated.

Lewis: That’s not an answer.

Sebastian: It’s family stuff. Sebastian: Not my story to tell.

Lewis: I’m not asking for gossip. Lewis: I’m about to be in the garage with Charles next year. Lewis: I need to know if I’m walking into a minefield.

Sebastian: It’s not a minefield. Sebastian: It’s a slow bleed that no one ever stopped. Sebastian: The Leclerc family dynamic is... difficult. Sebastian: Charles loves her in his way. Sebastian: But he doesn’t see her. Never really has.

Lewis: How do you mean?

Sebastian: It’s not loud.Sebastian: Not shouting or fighting. Sebastian: It’s worse. Sebastian: It’s forgetting. Ignoring.Sebastian: Charles forgets she’s a person sometimes. Sebastian: Like she’s background noise. Takes her for granted.

Lewis: Jesus.

Sebastian: Look, Charles isn’t cruel on purpose. Sebastian: But he doesn’t see her properly. Sebastian: Hasn’t for a long time. Sebastian: Too caught up in being the golden boy. Sebastian: It’s easy for everyone to overlook someone who doesn’t scream for attention.

Lewis: She shouldn’t have to scream.

Sebastian: No. She shouldn’t. Sebastian: But that’s the Leclerc family for you.

Sebastian: Charles loves his sister. I don’t doubt that. 

Sebastian: I tried telling him once…I don’t think he even understood what I meant, Lewis. 

Sebastian: Charles isn’t cruel. He is a good guy in a lot of ways. He’s not malicious. But he’s blind.

Sebastian: And the people around him? His family? They expect Isabelle to just... carry everything. Be the good girl. Be grateful.

Sebastian: Isabelle grew up in a shadow she didn’t ask for. And no one ever pulled her out of it.

Lewis: That’s fucked up. Lewis: You should have told me sooner.

Sebastian: It wasn’t my story to tell.  But now that you know... be kind to her, if you can. Sometimes being overlooked hurts more than being hated. (And she has some fantastic thoughts on Ecological architecture, if the topic ever comes up!)

Lewis: I will. Thanks, mate.

Sebastian: Anytime. Sebastian: And good luck at Ferrari. You’re going to need it.

***

Lewis didn’t usually make a habit of visiting hospitals.

Not if he could avoid it.

But after the night he’d had — witnessing Isabelle Leclerc’s accident firsthand, seeing her curled up in that crumpled car, bleeding and shocky — he hadn’t been able to shake the image.

He needed to make sure she was really okay.

Especially after she had all but begged him not to call Charles.

So here he was, walking through the polished halls of Princess Grace Hospital, a coffee in one hand and the quiet buzz of early morning filling the air.

The receptionist had waved him up to her room without hesitation.

“She’s in 433,” she said. “They moved her upstairs overnight for observation.”

Lewis headed for the elevator, heart pounding a little too fast.

He wasn’t family.

He wasn’t even a close friend.

But last night… he hadn’t been able to just walk away.

He pushed open the door to room 433, expecting to find Isabelle sleeping alone.

Maybe a nurse checking in.

Maybe Charles finally at her bedside.

Instead, Lewis froze halfway through the doorway.

Because slouched in the chair next to Isabelle’s bed — hoodie rumpled, hair a mess, legs awkwardly stretched out and still somehow managing to look like he belonged there — was Max Verstappen.

Lewis stared.

Max was half-asleep, head tipped back against the wall, Isabelle’s hand still clutched tightly in his.

Not loosely.

Not casually.

Like he couldn’t bear to let go.

And on the bed, Isabelle was curled toward him in her sleep, her fingers twisted into the fabric of his hoodie like she was holding onto a lifeline.

Lewis’s brain short-circuited for a second.

He hadn’t known what to expect — but it definitely hadn’t been this.

Max stirred slightly, blinking awake as Lewis stood there like an idiot in the doorway.

His eyes sharpened immediately, full of instinct and protectiveness.

“Morning,” Max said quietly, his voice rough from sleep.

Lewis cleared his throat. “Morning. I—uh—I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Max said simply, glancing down at Isabelle to make sure she was still asleep before looking back at Lewis. His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles without thinking.

Lewis’s mind was racing.

Max Verstappen.

Max “I hate Monaco socializing” Verstappen.

Max “I don’t do drama” Verstappen.

Holding Isabelle Leclerc’s hand like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Lewis stepped further into the room, lowering his voice instinctively. “I didn’t know you two were…”

Max’s mouth twitched slightly. Not quite a smile. “Yeah. Not a lot of people do. Lando does.”

Lewis nodded slowly, the pieces starting to rearrange themselves in his mind.

The panic in Isabelle’s voice when she said don’t call Charles.

The protectiveness bleeding off Max in waves.

The way Isabelle’s whole body, even unconscious, leaned into him like it was instinct.

It made a kind of sense, now.

A messy, secret kind of sense.

“I was there last night,” Lewis said quietly. “At the crash.”

Max’s eyes sharpened even more, alert now. “You were?”

Lewis nodded. “I saw it happen. I called the ambulance. Stayed with her until they arrived.”

Something flickered across Max’s face — gratitude, raw and immediate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, like the words cost him something. “For staying with her.”

Lewis shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me. She… she didn’t want me to call Charles.”

Max’s jaw flexed. He looked down at Isabelle again, the tension in his shoulders visible.

“I know,” Max said after a beat. “It’s… complicated.”

Lewis thought about asking. About pushing.

But one look at the way Max’s hand tightened protectively around hers, and he decided against it.

Not his business.

Not today.

Instead, Lewis set the coffee cup he’d brought down on the bedside table, careful not to make too much noise.

“For when she wakes up,” he said simply.

Max nodded once. “She’ll appreciate that.”

Lewis hesitated, then gave Max a small, understanding nod.

And for the first time, he realized —

Max wasn’t just dating Isabelle.

He was in it.

Fully. Completely.

No half-measures.

And maybe — maybe that was exactly what Isabelle needed.

“Take care of her,” Lewis said finally, meaning it.

Max looked up, his expression hard and certain. “Always.”

Lewis nodded once more and quietly slipped out of the room, leaving them to their small, private world.

And for the first time in a long time, Lewis smiled to himself.

Because against all odds —

Isabelle Leclerc had found someone who would never let her stand alone again.

***

Text Messages: Lewis Hamilton & Sebastian Vettel

Lewis: You’re not going to believe what I just walked into.

Lewis: Went to the hospital this morning to check on Isabelle.

Lewis:  You know, after the crash last night.

Sebastian: Right. How is she?

Lewis: Sleeping. Safe.

Sebastian: Good.

Sebastian:  But that’s not what you’re texting about.

Lewis: No.

Lewis:  Max Verstappen was there.

Sebastian: ...what?

Lewis: Sitting in the chair next to her bed. Lewis:  Holding her hand. Lewis:  Full-on boyfriend mode.

Sebastian: Are you serious???

Lewis: Dead serious. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t new either.

Sebastian: Holy shit.

Lewis: Yeah. Lewis:  Suddenly a lot of things make sense.

Sebastian: Like her panic last night when you mentioned Charles.

Lewis: Exactly. Lewis:  She didn’t want Charles finding out. Lewis:  Probably doesn’t want any of them finding out yet.

Sebastian: Honestly? Sebastian: If anyone’s going to protect her, it’s Max. Sebastian: He doesn’t do anything halfway. Sebastian: And god help anyone who tries to mess with her now.

Lewis: Yeah.

Lewis:  He actually thanked me for staying with her after the accident. Like he sounded actually sincere. 

Sebastian: I think she finally found someone who sees her.

Sebastian:  Not the Leclerc name. Sebastian:  Just... her.

Lewis: Yeah. Lewis: Yeah, that’s what it looked like. Lewis: And honestly? I’m happy for her.

Sebastian: Me too. Sebastian:  God, Charles is going to lose his mind.

***

Text Messages: Lewis Hamilton & Lando Norris

Lewis: I know. 

Lando: ????????? know what???

Lewis: about Max and Isabelle.

Lando: OH MY GOD Lando:  WHO TOLD YOU????

Lewis: no one. Lewis: I saw it with my own eyes. Lewis: Hospital bedside. Lewis: Hand-holding. Lewis: Sleeping in a chair like a lovesick idiot. Lewis: It’s real.

Lando: holy shiiiiiiiit Lando: WELCOME TO THE NIGHTMARE

Lewis: what nightmare

Lando: hang on Lando: adding you

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr. and Lewis Hamilton)

Lando Norris has added Lewis Hamilton

Lando: guys Lando:  GUYS

Lando: LEWIS KNOWS NOW

Daniel: LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oscar: It was inevitable tbh.

Carlos: Hola Lewis. Bienvenido al infierno.

Lewis: ...why does this chat exist

Daniel: because max and isabelle are RIDICULOUS and SECRETIVE and it's KILLING US

Oscar: also because we needed a safe space to scream

Carlos: and gossip.

Lando: and bet how long until Charles finds out and has a meltdown

Oscar: How did you find out?

Lewis:  Last night in Monaco. Lewis:  Isabelle got in a crash. Lewis:  A drunk driver ran a red light. Lewis:  Slammed into her car.

Lando: WHAT?! IS SHE OKAY???

Lewis: She’s alive. Lewis:  Spent the night in hospital. Lewis:  Mild concussion. Bruises. Lewis:  They’re keeping her for observation.

Carlos: Oh my god.

Oscar: Poor Belle :(

Daniel: HOW DID WE NOT KNOW THIS

Lewis: I was there. Lewis:  I saw the crash. Lewis:  Ran over. Lewis:  Stayed with her until the ambulance came.

Daniel: You're a legend, mate.

Lewis: There’s more. Lewis:  When I said I was going to call Charles— Lewis:  She begged me not to. Lewis:  Like, full-on panic.

Daniel: ... That tracks tbh.

Carlos: Yeah. It’s complicated.

Lewis:  This morning I went to check on her. Lewis:  And Max was there. Lewis:  Sleeping next to her. Lewis:  Holding her hand like he was afraid to let go.

Lando:  max literally acts like a disney prince around belle 

Lando:  hand-holding and everything. Lewis:  how long has this been going on??

Lando: ages.

Oscar: Since like March. 

Lewis: does Charles know?

Daniel: ...............no.

Oscar: dear god no

Carlos: If Charles finds out there will be a war.

Lewis: You guys have been covering for them????

Daniel: YES. AND WE’RE DOING AMAZINGLY Daniel: (except for the part where we’re all gonna die when charles finds out)

Lando: new plan: Lando: if charles finds out Lando: we blame max.

Daniel: and also maybe… pretend we just found out too.

Daniel: Max can protect himself anyway Daniel: He’s built like a house and has no survival instincts around belle

Lewis: Honestly after what i saw last night he’s never letting her out of his sight again

Lando: cute but terrifying

Oscar: love that for her tbh

***

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HIM & I

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe confronts the pogues after they try to get his girl to turn on him—big mistake.

based on this ask !! sorry it took a while anon, but i hope you enjoy it and it’s what you asked for :) got a couple request in the drafts stm, just editing them and i’m gonna’ start posting them one after the other <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: cursing, rafe threatening the pogues, mentions of murder, maybe a sliiightly toxic relationship (?), alcohol consumption. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

THIRD PERSON +

The summer heat hung heavy in the air, thick with salt and gasoline, the scent of the Outer Banks. The island was split in two—the Kooks, who had everything, and the Pogues, who had nothing. And in the middle of it all stood Y/N, Rafe Cameron’s girl.

Not just his girlfriend. His obsession.

Rafe wasn’t known for being soft. Not with his father breathing down his neck, not with his so-called friends who only stuck around for the drugs and money, and certainly not with the Pogues, who were a thorn in his side. But Y/N—she was different. She was the only thing in this world that could make Rafe pause, the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.

He was still reckless, still dangerous, still a ticking time bomb—but with Y/N, he was something else too. Soft, almost. Not in the way that made him weak, but in the way that made him even more dangerous. Because if anything ever happened to her, he would burn this island to the ground.

They were inseparable, always tangled up in each other, whether it was his arm slung over her shoulders at a party, his lips trailing down her neck when no one was looking, or the way she fit perfectly against him when he finally let himself rest.

Y/N would do anything for Rafe. And he’d do anything for her.

So when the Pogues pulled her aside one afternoon, she already knew there was no world in which she would betray Rafe Cameron.

They had found her alone near The Wreck, waiting for Rafe to pick her up. Pope was the first to speak. “Y/N, listen, we need your help.”

She raised an eyebrow, already uninterested. “With what?”

“Proving John B’s innocence,” Kie said.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “You’re joking, right?”

They weren’t.

“Rafe killed Peterkin,” Pope said, low and serious. “We know it. And we know you know it too.”

“Sarah saw him,” Kie added. “We just need something—anything—that proves it wasn’t John B.”

“You don’t have to protect him,” JJ said, his tone a little different from the others. He wasn’t pleading with her, wasn’t trying to reason. He was taunting. “I mean, come on, Y/N, you think Rafe would do the same for you?”

That made her blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me and Rafe,” she snapped.

“Then prove it,” JJ challenged. “Help us, and I’ll believe it.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You actually think I’d turn on him? That I’d betray my Rafe for you?” She took a step closer, her voice venomous. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not afraid of Rafe. I love him. And if you think for a second that I’d help you take him down, you’re out of your goddamn minds.”

She left them standing there, stunned, and walked away without looking back.

Rafe was waiting for her in his truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping against his knee impatiently. He relaxed the second he saw her, his sharp features softening, his whole body exhaling in relief.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked as she climbed in.

“Talking to the Pogues,” she said, her voice laced with irritation.

Instantly, Rafe’s expression darkened. “What?”

“They tried to get me to help them prove John B’s innocent.”

Rafe went still.

It was a terrifying kind of stillness, the kind that came before a storm. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“They what?” His voice was calm, but she knew him too well to be fooled.

“They think I’d turn on you,” she said, shaking her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That I’d help them prove you killed Peterkin.”

That was all it took.

Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, one that sent chills down her spine. “That’s fucking hilarious,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “They actually thought you’d betray me?”

His laugh faded just as quickly as it came. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and that familiar rage flickered to life behind his blue eyes.

“They think they can talk to my girl,” he said, his voice dark and dangerous. “That they can turn you against me?”

She could see the storm brewing inside him, the way his fingers twitched like he was itching to grab something—someone. His knee bounced violently, and his breathing was slow, controlled, like he was trying not to explode.

Y/N reached over, placing her hand over his. “I shut them down,” she murmured. “They’re idiots if they ever thought I’d turn on you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his knee stopping its frantic movement. He grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “They don’t get to talk to you. They don’t get to look at you. They don’t even get to fucking think about you.”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his jaw. “Then make sure they don’t,” she whispered.

Rafe turned his head, his lips crashing against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. He kissed her like he was staking his claim, like he needed to feel her, taste her, to remind himself that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still burning with fury.

“They’re gonna regret ever coming near you,” he muttered.

Y/N didn’t doubt it for a second.

—

The Boneyard was alive with the pulse of heavy bass and the crash of waves against the shore. Fires burned bright, illuminating the faces of Kooks and Pogues alike, their rivalries momentarily drowned in the haze of alcohol and summer heat. But that peace wouldn’t last.

Not tonight.

Because Rafe Cameron had a score to settle.

He stood at the top of the dunes, looking down at the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. His jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Y/N stood beside him, her lips curled into a smirk, arms crossed casually over her chest. She knew what was about to happen—hell, she’d been waiting for it just as much as he had.

“You ready?” Rafe asked, voice low, eyes burning.

She turned to him, expression playful. “Always.”

Rafe smirked, but there was no humor behind it. Just something dark and volatile, barely contained. Then he was moving, striding down the dunes with the confidence of someone who owned this entire island.

Heads turned as he passed. Kooks raised their cups, cheering for their golden boy, oblivious to the rage simmering just beneath the surface. But the Pogues? They stiffened the second they saw him.

John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were gathered near the fire, deep in conversation, but the second Rafe and Y/N approached, they all fell silent.

JJ was the first to react, straightening up and rolling his shoulders back like he was ready for a fight. “Oh, look,” he drawled, taking a swig from his beer. “Kook Prince and his loyal queen.”

Y/N scoffed, but Rafe barely acknowledged the remark. His eyes were locked on them, sharp and unrelenting.

“Which one of you dumbasses thought it was a good idea to talk to my girl?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

John B tensed. Kie shifted uncomfortably. Pope kept his mouth shut.

JJ, of course, grinned. “You mean about you, uh, murdering someone?”

Rafe laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. “That’s funny,” he said, tilting his head. “You know what else is funny? Thinking Y/N would ever betray me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for just a second before he masked it with bravado. “I don’t know, man. She seems smart enough to know when she’s on the losing side.”

Y/N let out a laugh, stepping closer, brushing against Rafe’s side. “You’re delusional if you think there’s any world in which I’d choose you over Rafe,” she said. “I mean, come on, JJ. Are you really that desperate?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, but before he could say anything, Rafe took another step forward, closing the distance.

“You don’t talk to my girl,” he said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “You don’t look at my girl. You don’t even fucking think about her. Understand?”

JJ, never one to back down, scoffed. “Or what?”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his smirk returning, but this time it was cold, calculated. “You don’t ‘wanna find out.”

There was a pause, thick with tension.

JJ met Rafe’s stare head-on, but for the first time, there was something hesitant in his gaze.

Rafe had always been unhinged. Dangerous. But this? This wasn’t just some Kook/Pogue rivalry. This was personal.

And when it came to Y/N, there was no line Rafe wouldn’t cross.

John B finally spoke, stepping between them. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Rafe let out a short, mocking laugh. “Yeah? Then you should’ve kept your mouths shut.”

The Kooks were starting to notice now, whispers spreading, eyes darting toward the confrontation. It wouldn’t be long before the whole party knew.

“You think you’re untouchable,” JJ muttered, shaking his head.

Rafe smirked. “No. I know I am.”

Y/N chuckled beside him, slipping her hand into his. “You should’ve known better,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe isn’t someone you fuck with. And neither am I.”

JJ’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. Not when it was so obvious that they had lost whatever game they thought they were playing.

Rafe leaned in, voice just loud enough for the Pogues to hear. “This was your one warning. Next time? I won’t be so nice.”

And with that, he turned, dragging Y/N with him as they walked away, leaving the Pogues standing there, seething.

The night continued around them, the music blaring, the drinks flowing—but everyone knew.

Rafe Cameron had made his point.

Loud and fucking clear.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i loved this request sm, thank you anon and i hope it’s what you asked for !! <3 i’ve had this a couple request in the drafts, just editing them so i can start posting them, so there might be a couple more posts tonight :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) i’m gonna try my best to keep replying to reblogs and comments, because genuinely i am SO insanely grateful for all the love you’ve all given me :’) i’ve gone up by 400 followers since december and i’m so insanely grateful for the love on my page and my works <3

pls keep requesting my loves !! request are still open and i’m working through them until i go away on wednesday <3

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[voidbellamy]

scary boyfriend privilege |

bob reynolds

summary: after what was supposed to be a very simple and very quick mission goes completely sideways, bob’s powers resurface

Bob was stretched out on the couch, a book propped open in his lap. He was half asleep, muttering to himself as wrapped himself into a tight ball. Usually he couldn’t fall asleep when the team was out on a mission- especially when you were involved. Muffled voices coming through the elevator roused him only slightly.

“–going to freak out–“

“–she’s fine, Yelena-“

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, scaring Bob out of his sleep, and right off the couch. He muttered something as he stumbled to his feet, embarrassed smile greeting his team. His smile dropped almost immediately when his eyes found Bucky and the unconscious form in his arms.

Bob nearly tripped over the coffee table as he made his way across the room. His usual awkwardness and clumsiness had vanished as his fingers found your cheek. “What happened-What- How-“ Bucky exhaled as he gently set you on the couch. Yelena was talking, but Bob saw the blood trickling from your nose and the rest of the world vanished. “Who- I don’t-“ he was beginning to spiral, and Bucky swore he watched his irises change color. Walker, stupidly, was the first to try explaining.

“The good news is, she wasn’t shot.”

Bucky sent him a glare and Yelena smacked his shoulder. John shrank back slightly, realizing that this probably wasn’t the time to be making jokes. “Is she- Is she okay?- I thought- I thought this was a simple mission, I-“

“Well it wasn’t.” Bucky’s bluntness cut off Bob’s increasing spiral, “Apparently these people aren’t afraid of two trained assassins or two super soldiers.” Bob was ignoring him as he looked down at your pale face. He was squeezing your hand, waiting for the slightest tick from your fingers to tell him you were okay. “It was supposed to be simple. You promised it would be simple-“ A twitch against his palm pulled his attention back to you. Your fingers tightened against his and your eyes fluttered open. Bob felt himself breathe again, “Hey-“ He tripped slightly as he stood, bringing himself even closer to you, “Hey… Hi.” You met Bob with a smile, but closed your eyes again as the pain hit your full force. You winced, trying to change to a position with less pain, but any slight movement made your head throb. “Ow- Who hit me this time?” There was nervous and relieved laughter around you- clearly you hadn’t lost your ability to make inappropriately timed jokes. Bob was stroking your hair away from your face, eyeing you with an intensity that made you feel smaller. He stared you as if blinking might make you disappear or suddenly get worse. “Dude. You’re look like you’re trying to burn her with laser eyes or something.” Bob flinched slightly, as if he forgot that it was more than just you and him in the room. “Sorry,” his voice was quiet as he reminded himself to blink. “I’m fine…” you winced as you brought your knees up to your chest. “Just..sore. And a little more humble.” The others had dispersed to their rooms or to get cleaned up and Bob noticed that Yelena was limping, and John walked a little less proud than usual. You tapped your finger against Bob’s wrist, pulling him back from whatever thoughts he was battling.

“I’m okay.”

Bob nodded once, trying to give you a convincing smile. You didn’t miss the way his hand slightly shook, or the way his eyes shifted colors just slightly. He kept his fingers laced through yours as you rested your head on his arm. You didn’t at all look comfortable, but the content smile on your face assured he wasn’t going to move you. “Do you need anything? I- Uh, tea? Or- or ice, or…” You hummed slightly, debating if ice or tylenol was worth losing your comfortable pillow. “I’m okay. Just sit with me…” Bob opened his mouth to argue as you shifted position to make more room. He eyed you disapprovingly, but he couldn’t argue when you patted the empty spot beside you. Bob pulled you against his chest as you settled between his legs comfortably. His kissed your hair gently, scared that even his lips may hurt you. You closed your eyes with a content smile as he held you. His arms were tight around you, as if keeping you in his arms would protect you from the pain you felt, and maybe even the whole world.

“I’m sorry you were hurt.”

He closed his eyes and buried his face in your hair. “I’ve been thrown around before… It’s just a concussion.” Bob tensed slightly at the word concussion and you regretted saying it instantly. “I’m fine.” You heard his sigh against your ear, felt his chest rise slowly, “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Just as you felt yourself start to drift off, voices filled the room again. Yelena still had wet hair when she sat across from you and Bob. She eyed you anxiously, letting out a breath as you nodded encouragingly. John was raiding the fridge, still arguing with Bucky, who wasn’t even in the room.

“We need a new plan.”

Yelena and Bucky both looked at John skeptically.

“You mean besides being underprepared, underpowered and unsuccessful?”

“And getting our asses kicked.”

Bucky nodded, crossing his arms, “And that, too.”

“Can’t you just wait for Ava and Alexei to get back, so you have more backup?” Bob finally spoke up, irritated that the peaceful, quiet moment was long gone. Bucky shook his head, looking exhausted, “They’re still off the grid until next week. If we wait that long, they might move the tech- and maybe leave the country.”

“We’ll recon. Figure of a new plan. Try going back tonight.” John scoffed, “So we can get our asses beat twice in one day?” Bob’s arms wrapped around you tighter, “You’re not going.”

You sat up, turning to look at him so quickly your head throbbed. “We need her. There’s no way this works without her, she’s our thief.” “She isn’t going back in there alone. Look what happened.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Bucky and John started arguing again. Yelena rolled her eyes, her head falling back against the couch with a groan.

“Yelena hacks into the security system, you and I take out the guards, she has to go in and do her sticky finger thing.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“No, you didn’t! Your plan was stupid-“

“Oh, shut up!” Yelena threw her arms up in exasperation, “We all know the plan. The plan didn’t work.”

Bob watched the group argue, feeling his anxiety and stress rise further every moment. “She isn’t going in alone.”

You looked at him in surprise, ready to argue that you had to finish the job, and that a slight concussion wouldn’t stop you from getting it done. John turned away from Bucky and stared at Bob dumbly, “She has to go in alone. She and Yelena are the smallest and quietest for sneaking in, and Yelena needs to be in the control room.”

“She isn’t going in alone. I’ll go with her.”

The room went silent; anxious glances spreading throughout the group. “Bob, I don’t think that’s-“ “I’m going.” You grunted slightly as Bob climbed ungracefully over you and stood to his feet. “For protection…” Bob smiled proudly, standing up straighter. “I don’t…” This entire situation was making you nervous; your mind went back to the horrors of the void and Bob losing control. “I can do it. I promise…” You held your breath, avoiding the questioning glances from the others. They would leave it up to you. You knew Bob the best. You knew what he could handle. And you knew how to pull him out of it if he got too lost. Bob was looking at you shyly, expectantly. “He can do it. He’ll be with me.”

Bucky grabbed your arm as you moved to follow Bob to his room, “Are you sure about this?” You swallowed hard, forcing down the creeping doubts deep down. “He’ll be fine. I’ve got him…” Bucky eyed you harshly, not quite believing you, but knowing nothing would happen to you with Bob there. “He isn’t the one I’m worried about. You and I both know that he is the one people need protection from.” Your heart rate jumped as you met Bucky���s eyes coolly, “He won’t hurt anyone. I won’t let him lose control…”

The Sentry powers had only come back once since the Void incident. Bob hadn’t lost control then, but this would be a higher stress situation, and you would be involved and possibly in danger. Bucky had a right to be nervous, but the plan would work. They would never expect a second break in on the same day, and now you would have backup. You were confident. Mostly…

Bob returned from his room in his team suit- which had only been worn once, when he tried it on, right after they were issued. He was pulling at it awkwardly, walking like it was pinching, clearly not used to tight clothing. You suppressed a laugh as you watched your boyfriend’s struggle. Bob caught your eyes on him and turned red, “It’s uh-“ he stopped fidgeting and straightened, “How does it look?” John grabbed his shield, eyeing the awkward pair with disgust, “Tight.” You sent him a glare, “Fine. It looks good on you.” You pulled your bag back over your shoulder as you stepped closer to him. You tugged on his jacket slightly, straightening it.

“It’s good to have you finally join us.”

Bob smiled shyly, so obviously over the moon every time you gave him a compliment.

————————

Bucky tapped his ear piece, watching John from the roof of the building. The unconscious gunman at his feet moaned and Bucky gave him a swift kick to knock him out again. “All good up here. Yelena, how are those cameras?”

“Working on it.”

“All good from where I’m at, too, not that you asked.”

“Shut up, John.”

Lights flickered above her head and Yelena paused, “Easy, Bob…” It was a silent prayer, knowing there had been no electrical problems earlier. A few more keyboard clicks and the monitors blinked off, “Cameras are dead. Go.”

You grabbed Bob’s wrist, tugging him against you before he stumbled over a crate. “All good?”

You squeezed his hand, not loving the way he was shaking slightly, and not feeling too confident about the flickering lights. “Stay behind me.”

“But-“

“No, Bob. Stay behind me.”

Until you were positive his powers would surface, he needed to stay out of the way and out of trouble. Air ducts were easy for you. Even with your short legs, you could slither through the tighter spaces without being heard, or getting stuck. Behind you, however, your sweet boyfriend- who you loved greatly- was trying his hardest to stay silent as he kicked his legs out awkwardly to shimmy around a corner. You bit your lip, flipping to your back and craning your neck to watch him. He waved a hand at you with a wince, silently apologizing for the minor delay. You nodded once, giving him your best encouraging smile. Bob caught up with you slightly later, crouched beside you, peering down the vent over your shoulder. The lights had stopped flickering, total darkness now enveloping you. Bob was holding himself together just fine. You felt his hand against yours, pulse slightly fast; from adrenaline, or nerves, you weren’t sure.

“Stay.” You whispered it, “Only if I need you.”

You unclipped the rope from Bob’s backpack and attached it to the front of your belt. You gave it a quick jerk to assure it was still attached to the roof you had scaled and then descended into.

Yes, you had attached your boyfriend to a harness while you slid your way down a chimney, but stealth and climbing were not his strengths.

You dug through his backpack and fished out your night vision goggles. After securing them over your eyes you peeled the vent’s grates away in one silent motion.

Yes, you also used your boyfriend to carry all your stuff… Next question.

You saw Bob watching anxiously as you held tightly to the rope and slowly lowered yourself down. Your feet left the safety of the metal duct’s bottom as you descended upside down. Nothing had been moved in the few hours since you had been here. The rope slid against your hands slowly, scanning your surroundings as you reached the ground. Guns loaded and the lights flashed on. The rope fell from your hand as you scrambled to pull off the goggles so you weren’t blind. You landed with a slight crash, arms lifted above your head as you scrambled to your feet.

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

“Why did the lights turn on?”

Being sure to not move much, you disconnected your earpiece. You were sure to get a lecture from Bucky later for this. “Hey.” You kept your arms raised, wiggling your fingers slightly in playful greeting. There were twenty guns trained on you. You didn’t have to look down and see the red dots on your chest to know.

“You again. I didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to come back. Especially the same day?”

You smiled sweetly, shrugging, “I don’t like leaving empty handed.” “Well, this time you can leave with a few bullet holes. In a bag.” The lights flickered again, and the sudden change in light gave you just enough time to dive behind a stack of sheet metal. It didn’t look bulletproof, but it certainly had more of a chance than you did against bullets. The firing started as soon as the lights came back on. You ducked as you heard bullets fly over your head. The firing stopped and you dropped to your belly. Twenty-odd men with guns; against you, were not good odds. Had they been expecting you again? “You’d think they would at least be smart enough not to send you in alone.” A few more rounds went off, holes appearing above your head. Okay, really not bulletproof. The firing continued and you were stuck.

“She isn’t alone.”

The voice filled up the entire room, and while you knew who it belonged to, it didn’t quite sound like Bob.

Shit.

You couldn’t see him, but the firing had moved to a different target. Bullets flew, then a few guns flew. A few men screamed; the sound getting more distant as they flew across the room. The firing had tripled as more men came running in. You couldn’t risk seeing what was going on and getting shot. Only one of you was bulletproof. Shouts came from the other side of the door, a few slams, the unmistakable sound of a metal arm joint moving. “You turned off your earpiece!”

Bucky ducked in beside you, looking unamused and filled with adrenaline. “Now isn’t the time!” You dodged a punch from an unarmed guard, wincing slightly as he was met instead with Bucky. John was throwing his shield into a line of armed men, but with the taco shaped shield, the physics weren’t quite the same. He missed half of them and had to throw himself to the ground to avoid the bullets. “Shitty shield.” Bucky mumbled to himself as he threw a stray piece of scrap metal into the nearest guard. You spun and was met two guns against your head. Bucky froze, arm lifted ready for a punch. The bullets clicked into place, and your heart dropped. As suddenly as they had appeared, the guns were away from your head and the men had landed across the room. Bob landed in front of you, hovering slightly, body shaking, fighting for control. Yelena was out of breath, clutching the cursed briefcase you had come for against her chest.

“I figured I could forget the cameras.”

“We need to get out of here!”

Guns were being reloaded, the men that hadn’t been knocked out, or worse, were regrouping. Firing started again and Bucky lifted his arm to shield himself. Bob jumped in front of you, unbothered completely by the rain of bullets against him. The men were yelling, finally scared by the bulletproof, hovering person. Yelena was crouched behind John’s shield, the two of them heading for the exit. Bucky had begun firing his own gun, tired of shielding himself with his arm. Men were dropping rapidly, the numbers quickly growing in our favor.

“This was supposed to be non lethal!”

You shouted over the blast of gun fire, but Bucky was too busy shooting at whoever got back up.

“Enough.”

The dark voice that almost belonged to Bob had returned. Your heart fell to your stomach as you watched the black shadow slowly creep up Bob’s outstretched arm. He waved his hand slightly, and every man dropped. The guns fell from their reach, as they struggled against the floor. Slowly, they began sinking. The floor cracked around them, gently swallowing them into the basement.

Bucky looked at you in horror, knowing he was close to going too far. “That’s enough- Bob-“ You grabbed at his waist, trying to pull him from himself, “We have to go.” You nodded to Bucky and he headed for the door after the others, “Bob, let’s go. I’m safe. We did it.” Your raised voice cut through the darkness and Bob dropped back to the floor. He was shaking slightly, eyes discolored and darting around anxiously. His hand found your face and he breathed. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, hand coming to rest over the top of his. Bob exhaled. He closed his eyes, fists tightening as his hands shook. He was muttering to himself, taking deep even breaths. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky’s fist clenched slightly, taking a slight step in front of you. “I’m okay. I’m- I-“ Bob nodded, finally opening his eyes. He looked at you finally, the gold light still present in his eyes, but growing dimmer. “Hi.” he squeezed your hand, expression softening. “You did great.”

“Turns out he is useful.”

Bucky sent a glare to John, as did you and Yelena. “John, you need to be nicer to Bob.” Yelena monotoned, looking at him with a dull expression. “Hey,” John grabbed your wrist, “While he’s still….” he made a motion like bird wings. You stared at him blankly, not at all surprised by his request after that comment. You held your hand out impatiently as John passed you his shield with a giddy expression. You passed it to Bob, holding back an amused expression. Bob eyed you, glanced to John, then back at you. His posture softened as he straightened John’s shield again. The taco shield was no more. John was giddy, not even hiding his excitement and enthusiasm. You cleared your throat, glaring once again.

John took his attention from his shield and sighed. He tucked his shield back against his back, “Thank your scary boyfriend for me.”

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside. 

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still. 

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said. 

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles. 

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms. 

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across. 

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist. 

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily. 

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.” 

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.” 

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Thanks a lot.” 

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you. 

“Hey” 

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you? 

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together. 

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down” 

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him. 

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?” 

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible” 

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath. 

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated” 

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?” 

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise” 

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go. 

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest. 

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me” 

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that. 

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.” 

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.” 

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.” 

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?” 

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread. 

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies. 

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?” 

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?” 

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave” 

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning” 

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more. 

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible” 

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands. 

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you. 

“How long has it been since you began making this?” 

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?” 

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there. 

“You smell so good” 

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him,  “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.” 

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her” 

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.” 

There it is. 

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose. 

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry. 

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?” 

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back” 

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support. 

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog. 

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?” 

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles. 

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”  

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft. 

“Mom sent this for you.” 

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item. 

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.” 

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming” 

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough” 

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this. 

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.” 

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.” 

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something” 

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips. 

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips. 

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off. 

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please” 

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?” 

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.” 

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?” 

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate. 

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?” 

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts. 

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss. 

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it” 

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”  

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath. 

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs. 

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already. 

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you. 

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine” 

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.” 

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it. 

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes. 

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.” 

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop. 

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth. 

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?” 

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does. 

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory. 

“Lose the pants” he commands. 

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him. 

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities. 

“God you’re dripping, honey” 

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly. 

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?” 

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt” 

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss. 

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen” 

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him. 

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.” 

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears. 

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out. 

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you. 

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?” 

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens. 

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it. 

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey” 

“You’re beautiful” 

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.” 

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again. 

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers. 

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come. 

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you” 

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle” 

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.” 

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something. 

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away. 

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right. 

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time? 

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?” 

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere” 

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet. 

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you” 

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them. 

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises. 

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. 

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?” 

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you? 

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

[momo-kageyama]

Pepper Saucen

—————————————————————————

Anime: KPop Demon Hunters

—————————————————————————

Daeun (Baby Saja) x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Daeun Baby Saja ("real" and more human version, with a still latent demonic background) and Y/n, a human girl with a personality silent, of few words, but with a sweet and magnetic charm - a calm presence that speaks with the gaze and gestures.

Daeun (Baby Saja) - this contrast between his sweet appearance and playful behavior (with powerful voice and love for extremely spicy food) makes him irresistibly complex.

His playful side, his passion for absurdly spicy food and that silent and sweet dynamic with Y/n, which contrasts beautifully with his intensity

—————————————————————————

In Seoul, at night. A cultural festival takes place in a park, with colorful lights and music in the background. The Saja Boys will secretly perform - as part of a demonic mission - but something unexpected changes Baby Saja's plans.

—————

The stage lit up in scarlet tones, the lights flashed to the rhythm of a deep and mesmerizing sound. Among the four dancers, he was the most discreet - and, therefore, the most dangerous.

Baby Saja rotated gently in the center, with his holographic jacket flickering like sparkling wings. The angelic face, hiding ancient secrets, lit up by flashes and cameras - but his gaze... constantly deviated to the side of the crowd.

She was there.

Y/n.

The girl with calm eyes, slow steps and silent presence.

She always stayed close to the stage, but never screamed. I never extended my cell phone. I never asked for an autograph. He just watched with an almost disturbing serenity - as if he saw beyond the music, beyond the stage. As if you really saw him.

After the show, while the fans dispersed and the other Saja Boys celebrated the screams sucked by the unsuspecting souls, Baby Saja stood still, without haste. Something in him prevented him from following the others.

In the dark behind the stage, he saw a reflection of her brightness. Y/n was sitting on the edge of a deactivated fountain, eating blue cotton candy, alone.

He approached with silent steps, as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile.

"You... always watch, but never talk," he murmured, his voice low like wind in glass.

She turned her eyes to him. I didn't say anything. He just offered the other side of the cotton candy. The gesture was so simple - but so direct - that he was paralyzed.

"Don't you think I'm scary?"

She tilted her head slightly, like someone who thinks before answering, and then pointed to his chest. His fingers touched above the heart.

"Tum tum," she whispered.

He laughed - not of debauchery, but of relief. For the first time in centuries, he felt something... soft.

"You know what we are, don't you?" - he asked. "Demons. Soul hunters. Brilliant farces."

She looked into his eyes - a deep look, which she didn't judge, she just saw.

Y/n raised her shoulders, like someone who says: 'So what?'

"You... don't say almost anything," he whispered. "But it's like screaming inside my head."

Silence.

He sat next to her. The two shared the candy while the park lights dimmed. She moved her bare feet in the shallow water of the fountain, and he kept watching the waves form with each touch.

"I'm afraid," he admitted. "To be myself near you. And at the same time... only near you can I feel more human than a monster."

Y/n turned his face to him. It was so close now that he could smell her soap - something simple, like rice flower.

She drew her finger and drew an imaginary word in the air, very slowly:

"Stay."

And he stayed.

———————

In the following days, Baby Saja began to disappear from rehearsals. I was missing the shows. He spent more time sitting with her in places where the world seemed to stop - silent libraries, hidden coffee shops, abandoned gardens.

No one understood. Not even him.

But every time Y/n held her finger and silently wrote on the palm of his hand words she didn't say with her mouth, he knew that there, even without speaking, she said everything.

—————

Three days after the first meeting at the edge of the fountain. Daeun discreetly calls Y/n for a number that only she knows. He invites her to a special place: a small street stall hidden in a Hongdae alley, famous among demons and brave humans... for the "insane" level of spiciness of the food.

⸻

Daeun was wearing a sweatshirt and a cap facing back. Large dark glasses covered his eyes, but it was impossible to hide that mischievous smile that already promised confusion.

Y/n appeared in the usual way: discreet, in neutral clothes, with a curious look, without saying a word.

"Would you trust me with all your senses, Y/n?"

He said, swinging a little red bottle as if it were liquid gold.

"This pepper is from another dimension. Literally."

She raised an eyebrow.

He smiled even more.

"Let's make a deal: if you can prove it without crying... I'll sing for you. Just for you. With the real voice, no joke."

Y/n hesitated. Then he looked at him, opened the bag he always carried on his shoulder... and took out a handkerchief. He put it on the table with a calm gesture. It was inside.

Daeun widened his eyes, genuinely impressed.

"You're much more dangerous than you seem, you know?"

The dish came: a bowl of tteokbokki (Korean rice balls), covered by a sauce so red that it seemed to shine.

Daeun ate first. As always, without even blinking. Satisfied, like someone who drinks water.

Y/n held the chopshot calmly. He got a little piece. He looked at him.

"Are you sure?" - he asked, for the first time doubting whether it was a good idea.

She took a little bite.

And she was absolutely... serene.

Daeun widened his eyes, gaping.

She wiped her mouth with the handkerchief and raised a finger: "now you must sing."

He leaned forward, his face softening. For the first time, he took off his sunglasses, revealing the vivid red eyes that he always hid - they didn't shine with malice, but with something more... vulnerable.

"It's. But this one is just for you."

And there, in the middle of the alley, between hanging lanterns and smoke from the plate, Daeun began to sing. The voice came out light, almost childish - a sweet falsetto that made the heart vibrate, but then... suddenly, it went down to a deep, hoarse tone, vibrant like thunder.

Y/n, even quiet, laughed with her eyes. He cheated on her again.

"It's my charm," he said with a little smile. "You should know that I nail tricks."

She took a pen and wrote on a napkin:

"Even so, he sings beautifully."

Daeun read. Then he looked at her with a slightly more serious look.

"You're the only person who doesn't run when you hear me really sing. The only one who doesn't cry with the pepper. The only one... who looks at me as if I were just... me."

Before they left, he took the same napkin where she wrote and put it in his pocket.

"I'll stick this on my mirror. Give me luck before the shows. And... maybe courage."

Y/n touched his sleeve. Light. Quick. But it was enough for him to feel his demonic heart miss a beat.

—————————————————————————

Two days after the meeting at the pepper stall. It's already night. The sky is strange - still clouds, the darkened moon. There are rumors among the demons that the Honmoon Barrier is weakening. Something is coming.

Daeun had disappeared since then. No message. No sign.

Y/n, even discreet, felt it missing like a note in silence.

She finds him, by chance, sitting on top of an empty building, with the city pulsating down there - lights and cars like electric nerves. He's alone, without makeup, without costumes. Natural red eyes, exposed. Dropped shoulders.

When she approaches, he doesn't turn around. Just say, without facing:

"Did you know? That our music... steals pieces from people. Every show, every note. They applaud us and die inside. Slowly."

Silence.

"And I like to sing. That's the worst."

His voice breaks.

"I really like it."

Y/n approaches slowly. Take something out of your pocket: the napkin with the phrase "Even so, it sings beautifully."

She folds carefully and leaves it next to him, as if to say: "It's still you."

He turns his face to her - his eyes now moist, no disguise, no tricks. Only Daeun, the boy who once was something before becoming a demon.

"You... listen to me even when I'm screaming inside, right?"

She doesn't answer. Just sit next to him. Lean your head slightly on his shoulder.

"When you stay close, Y/n... I sing differently. As if the pain leaked between the notes. As if I wanted to be forgiven, but I don't know why."

A strong wind blows. He senses: something is approaching. The other demons will hunt. The barrier is ruining. Soon their world and hers will collide.

He takes a deep breath. Close your eyes.

"If I disappear after today... I want you to know that it was real. Even if I was made to lie, you were real to me."

Y/n moves. Turn your face. And without a word, he holds his face between his hands.

Look inside the red eyes as if to say: "then stay."

And for the first time...

Daeun is not afraid of what he is.

There, in silence, two worlds touch each other without words. The demon and the human. The boy who sings to steal - and the girl who never needed to speak to be heard.

But in the distance, in the skies of Seoul... the sound of thunder opens the next beat of fate.

—————————————————————————

It's high night. The sky seems made of smoke. After the confession at the top of the building, Daeun and Y/n walked aimlessly, hands almost touching, hearts screaming in silence. They end up entering an old forgotten rehearsal room, full of pillows, red curtains, mirrors covered by sheets, low light. A hiding place of the world.

Daeun closes the door slowly behind him. The world out there dissolves.

Y/n walks slowly to the center of the room, turning her back. He observes the way she breathes. How her shoulders go up and down. How the hair falls delicately on the back of the neck.

"Tend me if I go too far," he whispers.

"You just need to look at me... and I'm stop."

She turns around. Firm eyes. And it approaches.

Not a word is said.

But she touches his fingers - gently. Like someone who reads a silent melody on the skin.

Daeun closes his eyes, goosebumps.

"You disassemble me just by touching me, you know?" He whispers, deep, hoarse voice - different from the usual lightness. The real one.

She raises her fingers to his face. Touch your cheeks. The mouth.

Then he holds her waist, gently, pulling slowly, like someone who is afraid of breaking something rare.

Their lips meet calmly. There's no hurry. It's a kiss that starts light, shy, but grows with every second. As if everything that was contained until then now required to exist.

Their breathing mixes. He leans his forehead against hers.

"I wish I could live only in this minute with you."

She puts her arms around his neck, pulling him back. And kiss again, deeper. This time, he moans low, without holding back. Not of pain. But of relief. Of delivery.

⸻

They lie down on the red cushions. Still dressed. But the touches change - fingers in the hair, hands on the back, the bodies adjusting, like notes fitting into a secret melody.

Nothing is vulgar. Nothing is fast.

They are two tired souls, thirsty for tenderness.

He sings to her there, softly, with his lips touching the skin of his shoulder, as if each note were an oath. His voice vibrates inside her - not by hearing, but by touch.

She holds his face and looks deep.

"Tum tum," she whispers.

And he understands: his heart is still beating. For her.

——————

At dawn, they fall asleep intertwined. Still dressed, but covered by warmth, by promise, by everything words can't say. The world keeps to collapse outside.

But for one night...

They were just a boy and a girl.

Before the war. Before the end.

—————————————————————————

The first beam of light enters through the torn curtain of the old rehearsal room. Everything there smells like a memory: sleeping perfume, light sweat, contained fear and a sweetness that did not exist before.

Daeun wakes up first.

Her face is buried in Y/n's shoulder, her arms still around her body. Her chest rises and comes down slowly. She sleeps as if there was no more world, more war, more Saja Boys. Only him. Only them.

"Tum tum..." he whispers, like someone who reads a mantra.

He watches her in silence for long minutes. As if every detail of her needed to be kept in memory - in case you can never see her like that again.

But then... he feels it.

A change in the air.

Cold. Sharp. Familiar.

"No... not now..."

He sits suddenly, tense, his red eyes lit uncontrollably. Outside, the sky is not clear. There are black cracks tearing the clouds - signs that the hunters of the underworld are moving. And he knows why.

They felt the break.

The breaking of the sacred rule: a Saja doesn't love. A Saja doesn't surrender.

And Daeun surrendered.

⸻

He touches Y/n's face with haste and affection. She wakes up with a calm look, even feeling the tension in his body.

"Y/n... you need to get out of here. Now."

She frowns. Don't ask. He just gets up, already understanding everything with a look.

"Do they come after me?"

She writes with her fingers on the palm of his hand.

He shakes his head.

"No. Behind both of us."

——————

On the outside, Romance Saja and Mystery Saja are already in the alley. The eyes shining. The air loaded with demonic magic. One of them smiles:

"She? Really, Daeun? A mute human?"

"She listens to me. More than any of you."

"So she'll listen when you die for her."

Daeun closes his eyes.

When you open it, your voice is no longer the usual sweet one.

Not even the deep rap.

It's the original voice.

The demonic voice.

He used it only on stage, with limits. But now, he screams - not to hurt, but to defend.

The word explodes in the alley like thunder:

"Silence!"

The two demons fall to their knees, their ears bleeding, the energy broken.

Y/n holds his shirt from behind, scared, but firm. She sees. He's bleeding from his mouth. Using that voice... has a price.

"I won't let them touch you," he says, turning to her.

"Ever if I need to be expelled from their world."

She writes a single word on her palm:

"Stay."

And he stays.

They run together through the streets of Seoul. Now fugitives. Condemned lovers.

But there's something new in his eyes.

No fear.

Freedom.

—————————————————————————

Inspiring name in the post of:

@filijester